


Project Leviathan

by Miss_Vile



Series: Project Leviathan [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Bat Family, Canon-Typical Violence, Ed gets them into trouble, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mutants and Metahumans, Rated Explicit for Smut in Chapter 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-01-21 09:58:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21297608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Vile/pseuds/Miss_Vile
Summary: “What happened?” The Penguin asked, looking up at the night sky“I don't know. Are you hurt?” Ed hoisted Oswald to his feet“Stop fussing!” Oswald flapped his arms, “I'm fine.” He rubbed at his knee. He was NOT fine. He was in pain, confused, and frustrated by his friend's inability to leave well enough alone.They step out of the alleyway and both gasp at what they see. They were on Robinson Street in the Diamond District. Behind them was Gotham Central Bank... but the businesses on the street were completely different. Most notably was a large, brightly lit nightclub.The exterior looked to be made of shiny black marble. Flanked on either side by large pillars of frosted glass with icy blue and white lights reflecting off of them. It was a stark contrast to the drab concrete and polished white walls of the surrounding buildings. The sign was unmistakable.“The Iceberg Lounge?” The Penguin nearly dropped his monocle, “Ed... what's going on?”
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Series: Project Leviathan [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661518
Comments: 69
Kudos: 169





	1. Tell Me Something Only He Would Say

**Author's Note:**

> Taking a break from NaNoWriMo to work on this commissioned piece for a friend based on a drunken conversation we had.
> 
> This piece is... weird. It's different from anything else I've written so I hope the story isn't too jarring for those of you who have read other things I've written.
> 
> Let me know what you lovelies think in the comments!

It had been eight months since the City of Gotham was reunited with the mainland. The Penguin and the Riddler were quick to reestablish the criminal underground and offer stability for those who longed for it. Their latest project- the reopening of the Iceberg Lounge- required them to line their pockets with more than just the gold they'd acquired from the expedition to the bottom of the river.

Edward and Oswald were wrist-deep in a bank heist when they heard the sirens outside.

“Crud,” Ed voiced his displeasure and started taking the necessary steps to enact Plan B in order to avoid Commissioner Gordon and the GCPD. Edward and Oswald had, so far, been successful in avoiding anything that might get their pardons revoked. They certainly weren't going to have their winning streak be ruined over a routine bank heist.

Edward's phone rang.

“How long do we have before they get here?” Edward answered, slightly exasperated.

“Not sure. There are a lot of cars heading this way,” Echo said. Her and her partner, Query, were on the roof of a nearby building keeping watch.

“Dangit,” Edward clenched his teeth. Had his riddle been too obvious? Surely Jim hadn't already solved it? Edward had estimated it taking him at _least _two more hours just to find the location of the first envelope!

“But I don't think they're after us,” Echo added

“What do you mean?”

“Query and I have a pretty good view from up here... It looks like they're chasing the Joker.”

“Jeremiah Valeska is here?” Edward and Oswald's eyes widened. The Joker was certainly _not _someone they were in the mood to tango with that evening.

“Yeah. And he's not alone. He's got some guy with him.”

“Do you recognize him?” Ed handed off the burlap sack full of money to Oswald who threw it over his shoulder.

“Yeah... here's the thing...” she inhaled, her breath uneasy “I think it might be his brother.”

“Come again?” Edward perched himself atop the pile of money that Oswald was trying to drag out to the getaway vehicle. Oswald's nostrils flared as he mouthed_ Let's go!_

“Jerome Valeska is dead,” Edward whispered into the phone, trying his best not to alarm his friend. The mere_ mention_ of Jerome Valeska always put Oswald on edge and Ed didn't want to upset him unnecessarily.

“No one stays dead in Gotham, Riddler,” she said.

He sighed, having intimate knowledge of just how true that statement was, “Meet us at the van. We're moving to Plan C.”

The criminals let out a sigh of relief when they realized the sirens weren't headed for the bank. The GCPD seemed to be blissfully unaware of the fact that the Riddler and the Penguin had cleaned out the bank's vault.

After the last of the loot was thrown into the van, Ed turned to his henchwomen, “Do you think you can drive the van to the safe house without being spotted?”

“Righto!” Echo gave a mock salute.

“You can count on us!” Query made her way for the front seat after being tossed the keys.

“Why aren't we leaving with them?” Oswald tried not to sound too agitated as the van full of the money _he_ helped carry sped off into the night.

“Aren't you at least a _little_ curious about what the Joker is up to?” Ed asked, a smile splitting his face in two.

“No. I'm really not. I'd like to go home and prop my leg up if you don't mind,” Oswald shifted his weight so that less of it was on his bad leg. He had left his cane at home because he didn't want to risk leaving it behind and he wanted the use of both of his hands during their heist.

Edward made a face. He hadn't even thought about that. Guilt seeped into his bones.

Oswald's eyes narrowed, “You're hiding something.”

“I am?”

“I'm not an idiot, Ed.”

“I know that.”

“So what are you hiding?” he limped forward, “I mean, you're reckless but even you're scared of the Joker and what he's capable of. Why do you want to follow him? You must have a reason.”

“Echo said she saw the Joker with his brother,” Ed admitted

Oswald's eyes widened, “But Jerome is dead.”

“Is he though?” Ed rolled his eyes. _Only in Gotham..._

Oswald seethed. Steam seemed to be escaping his ears as he flapped about. Edward had to take a moment not to chuckle at how bird-like his friend was.

“Ozzie, take a breath.”

“Why are we still here?! Call Echo and Query back here NOW!” he screeched.

“Ozzie-”

“No! We shouldn't be here. We did not work as hard as we did to get to where we are now only to have the Valeskas carve us open in the street!”

“I know. Just...” Edward sighed, “I want to confirm what she saw. Maybe we can sell the information to the GCPD. Have someone owe us a favor.”

“This is ridiculous!” Oswald huffed, “Fine then... Mind filling me in on Plan C?”

The Penguin glared at his partner. Normally, he would have sent one of his henchmen to do the dirty work that evening. Cleaning out a bank vault with Edward Nygma didn't exactly conjure up happy memories. Oswald was even more hesitant to come after having been introduced to the two women in Edward's employ. They were young, beautiful, clever in ways that made Edward beam with pride... they were everything Oswald was not. He swallowed down his jealousy and prayed his friend hadn't noticed.

“I'm sort of making it up as I go,” Edward confessed, drawing his gun and walking down the alleyway towards where they could hear the sirens.

“You aren't known for your astute improvisational skills, Riddler.”

“No... but that's why I have you here,” Ed winked.

Oswald blushed and started to open his mouth before slamming Edward up against a wall by the dumpster. Before Edward could say a word, Oswald clamped a hand over his mouth. Conjoined maniacal laughter could be heard echoing off of the cobbled pavement.

“How much further?” The red-headed twin with a Glasgow smile asked.

“Patience, brother,” The paler brother with green hair spoke. His burns left his face mangled but he maintained the same aristocratic poise he had before. The complete opposite of his carnie brother.

Oswald was visibly shaking now. Edward rubbed his hand along Oswald's back to ground him. Knowing full well that he was on the verge of panicking. They both were. News that Jeremiah Valeska had escaped from Arkham's infirmary sent the newly restored city into chaos. Which was, of course, the intended effect. However, the addition of _Jerome_ Valeska also being resurrected and working alongside his brother was something no one had anticipated.

“Here we are,” Jeremiah pulled a small device out from the pocket of his shiny purple and green coat. He twisted several knobs and pressed buttons in a sequence only he knew.

“What's your plan if we're followed?” Jerome asked, his voice gruffer than his twin's.

“Commissioner Gordon will be in for quite the surprise if they do,” He grinned wildly. Both of them broke out into terrifying laughter.

Edward and Oswald kept their heads as low as they could, gripping hold of the other while they waited for the moment to pass. They had been curious about what the Joker was up to but now they just wanted to go home. They wanted to sink into their respective beds at the Van Dahl manor and count their blessings.

There is a low rumble through the small alley. The laughter distorted and began to sound metallic, slowly blending together into one cacophonous hum. The Penguin and the Riddler peeked out from around the dumpster and witnessed the two brothers being enveloped in a bright light made of a color neither man seems to fully comprehend. And, suddenly... they were gone.

Edward and Oswald stared at each other and listened for the distinctive click on the heels of Joker's shiny shoes. There was nothing. Not even any wind. The alley was empty.

“Where did they go?” Oswald asked, looking around.

“I dunno,” Ed took a few cautious steps towards where the Valeskas had been standing. He stopped dead in his tracks when his eye caught a slight shimmer in the air in front of him. There a tear that refracted light in an impossible way. Edward looked around for anything that could possibly be causing the strange reflection, but there simply wasn't anything.

Edward took a step closer and reached his hand out to touch it. Oswald grabbed him by the arm with a soft sort of gasp.

“Don't,” he tugged on Ed's sleeve, “Let's leave this mess to Jim.”

“No... I want to see what this is,” Curious as always, Edward reached out and touched the light. He's suddenly blinded by an impossibly bright light. His ears were ringing and he was fairly certain he was falling.

He landed with a crack.

“Ow,” The Riddler rubbed his head, looking up. What the hell happened? Why did it feel like he fell from the roof?... And why was it raining? The ground was shiny and there was still mist in the air. It seemed about twenty degrees cooler than it had been moments prior. He looked over to see Oswald slumped over on the ground, “Ozzie?”

“What happened?” The Penguin asked, looking up at the night sky.

“I don't know. Are you hurt?” Ed hoisted Oswald to his feet.

“Stop fussing!” Oswald flapped his arms, “I'm fine,” he rubbed at his knee. He was _not _fine. He was in pain, confused, and frustrated by his friend's inability to leave well enough alone.

They stepped out of the alleyway and both gasped at what they saw. They were on Robinson Street in the Diamond District. Behind them was Gotham Central Bank... but the businesses on the street were completely different. Most notably was a large, brightly lit nightclub.

The exterior looked to be made of shiny black marble. Flanked on either side by large pillars of frosted glass with icy blue and white lights reflecting off of them. It was a stark contrast to the drab concrete and polished white walls of the surrounding buildings. The sign was unmistakable.

“The Iceberg Lounge?” The Penguin nearly dropped his monocle, “Ed... what's going on?”

“J-just give me a minute....” Edward turned back down the alleyway for any clues to help him comprehend what had happened.

“Um...E-Ed-” Oswald sounded nervous, his voice pitched higher than was normal.

“-Let me think!” Ed yelled. He walked over to where he remembered the shimmering light being. Nothing was there. He banged on the brick walls near where the tear had been. He wasn't certain what he was even searching for.

“_Ed!_” Oswald squawked behind him.

“What?!” Edward yelled and looked over his shoulder. A man was standing next to Oswald- familiar and bald- pointing a gun at Ozzie's head.

“Holy shit,” The bald man said.

The man was Victor Zsasz. At least they _thought_ it was Victor. He looked different. A little worse for wear. How often had he been drinking? The man looked decades older than when they last saw him.

“Hey, Chief...” Victor raised a hairless brow.

“Long time no see,” Oswald gave him a fake and venomous smile. His hands were raised.

“Yeah. Long time,” Victor seemed stunned- Just gawking at the two of them. Guns still at the ready, one in each hand pointing at the Riddler and the Penguin

“I heard you skipped town after reunification,” Oswald said.

“Reunification?” Victor blanched, “Are you for real right now?”

A bullet whizzed by their ears and ricocheted off the brick walls. Before any of them had the time to really think about what was going on, they were running down the alleyway. Several men in clown masks were pouring in from the street to give chase.

It didn't take long for Oswald to quickly fall behind. His limp prevented him from moving as quickly as his more nimble allies.

“Victor!” Edward called out before turning back towards Oswald to try and help him escape the hail of bullets.

“Dammit,” Victor stopped and ran back down the alley towards the pair.

Oswald had collapsed onto the pavement. Edward was trying to lift him to no avail and Victor soon ran out of bullets. The three of them raised their hands in surrender as they were surrounded by the gang of clowns.

A skinny man in ratty clothes and too long of limbs stepped forward. He didn't look like the leader of this particular gang but the other members seemed to give him a wide birth as he walked through the group of them. He held his hands up and they could feel the air crackle. Like that moment right before lightning struck. He clapped his hands and there was a flash of blue and purple light that hit the three of them in waves. It didn't last long before all three of them collapsed onto the pavement.

When they awoke, they were tied to chairs in what looked to be the main room at the Siren's Club. Edward blinked as his head pounded. To his left was Oswald, just as bleary-eyed. To his right was Victor, who was currently receiving a beating from a large man in an ill-fitting suit and clown makeup.

“I'm telling you, I don't know anything,” Victor chuckled, “You got the wrong guy.”

“Then explain why those two bozos are sitting over there alive and well,” the brutish looking fellow with crudely painted clown makeup asked. His brass knuckles were too small for his fat fingers.

“I don't know,” Victor glared, “I literally just bumped into them in the alley when I was running away from all of you.”

“You're so full of shit, Zsasz,” the larger man shook his head, “Boss wants to know where you're hiding the Lazarus Water.”

“We don't know where the Pit is,” Victor looked over at the Penguin and Riddler, “Trust me, if we knew where it was, we would resurrect more than just these two.”

Edward and Oswald stared at each other. What was Victor talking about? What were these men after?

Mercifully, the men left the room. And, evidently, they were too stupid to bother leaving one of them behind to make sure the three men didn't try to escape.

“So... I take it those men aren't with you?” Oswald scoffed. He was able to get a better look at Victor Zsasz in this light. He looked significantly older. He and Edward Nygma were similar in age but the man that was currently tied to the chair and covered in bruises looked to be in his fifties.

“Nope,” Victor spat blood out onto the floor in front of him and ran his tongue along his bloodied gums, “Hey, Riddler... Think you can reach into my pocket?”

Edward scooted his chair closer to Zsasz and reached into the pocket of his leather jacket. Inside was a cellphone. He slipped it into Victor's hand and watched as he flipped it open and began sending a text message without having to look at the keys. Victor had likely been in this exact scenario many times before.

“So... What is Professor Strange up to?” Victor asked

“Pfft. How should I know?” Oswald scoffed, “I haven't seen him since I paid him to save Edward and Leslie Thompkins.”

“For real?” Victor looked surprised. He looked over to Ed, “What about you?”

“I haven't seen him since he performed a crude craniotomy on me and put a damn chip in my brain,” he growled.

“Wow... you two really don't remember anything?” Victor's brow furrowed. It was going to be a long night for him.

“Enlighten us, Victor. What exactly _are_ we supposed to remember?” Oswald asked.

Before Victor could answer that question, the clowns entered the room.

“Well. That settles it,” the brutish clown waved his gun.

“You're gonna let me go?” Victor smiled.

“Boss says to bring these two back to our base in the Narrows. You... well,” he pointed the gun at Victor's head, “You aren't needed.”

_Tonight, I'm gonna have myself a real good time..._

Music starts playing over the speakers. The henchmen all turn to look at each other for answers that never come.

_I feel alive!_

The Brute Clown lowered his gun and looked over at Victor who had a wide grin plastered on his face.

“Did you do that?” the clown asked.

_And the world will turn it inside out- yeah!_

“How could I do anything when I'm all tied up?” Victor chuckled.

_And floating around in ecstasy..._

Victor's chair is spun around, causing him to drop his phone to the floor.

“Oops,” Victor laughed even louder.

_Don't. Stop. Me Now._

The clowns all lose their smiles as they realize what's happened.

_Cuz I'm havin' a good time!_

“Oh shit! Lock the doors!”

_Havin' a good time!_

Locking the doors was futile, however. The circular window behind the bar shattered and several masked figures filed in with Tommy guns. The music continued to play through the carnage. Victor Zsasz laughed manically while Edward and Oswald looked on, confused and terrified.

As the last of the clowns were struck down, a young-looking woman walked over to them.

“Uuhhh... what?” she gawked. She's tall. Dressed in leather. Curly brown hair poked out from under the goggles on her head. Her face was covered by a deep purple mask.

“Selina?” Oswald's eyes widened as he picked out some of Selina Kyle's familiar features.

“Yeah, no. Sorry. Wrong gal,” she snickered, “What the hell is this?”

“Yeah. I don't know either. Untie me,” Victor said.

The woman continued to stand there and stare at Ed and Oswald. Who looked on at her just as incredulously.

“_Please?” _Victor snarled.

“Yeah... sure,” she extended her hand to reveal a set of bladed claws in her gloves. If she _wasn't_ Selina Kyle, she certainly modeled herself after her.

“Is G here yet?” Victor asked, massaging his wrists.

“No. She's at base,” the woman crossed her arms, “... The twins are here though.”

“Aren't they like... twelve?” Victor raised an eyebrow

“Sixteen. But same difference,” she shrugged, “You asked for a hacker. You didn't say what for,” she gave the Riddler and the Penguin a questioning look.

On cue, two boys walked into the room. They were tall for their age. Shaggy brown hair and glasses. They're were both carrying large bags full of computer parts and cables. They stopped in the doorway and stared. Their eyes fixed on the Riddler and the Penguin.

“We don't have time to explain, boys. Just get to work,” The woman scolded and motioned to the rather large looking computer crudely set up on a table in the corner.

“Rodger-dodger,” One of the boys started pulling cables from his bag.

The Siren's Club looked to be in disuse. Dust coated every surface save for a few top-shelf decanters and some glasses. It's obvious that the club has turned into some kind of base for criminal activity.

“What are you two doing exactly?” Edward asked.

The boys looked up, startled by his voice for a moment. They almost seemed scared of him.

Ed leaned over to examine their features more closely. Edward couldn't help but recognize how... _familiar _they looked. The only real difference between them was their clothes. One of the twins wore a button-down shirt with a grey vest and the other had a t-shirt and jeans. The one in jeans also had a scar across his nose from where Ed guessed he might've broken it.

“We're.. um... We're hacking the GCTV cameras and the city's PA system,” the boy with the scar said.

“Speaking of which...” The other boy raised a finger and then dramatically pressed onto a key. A series of lights flashed on the screen, “Operation _Free Bird _is ready. Now we just need confirmation.”

“Confirmation?” Ed asked.

Victor's phone rang. He answered silently. Everyone sat there in quiet. The only sound in the room was their collectively held breath and Oswald's teeth grinding. Victor nodded his head, hung up the phone, then pulled out his guns before walking out of the room.

“So... which one of us pushes the button?” The boy with the vest asked.

“Uh... I dunno. We've never made it this far!” The boy with the scar clapped his hands excitedly.

“Oh my GOD! One of you just press the damn button!” the woman yelled.

“Will do!” the vested one pressed a button and music could be heard creeping in from the windows outside. Oswald looked out and could hear it getting louder and louder as the speakers across the city were switched on. It was almost like a siren. _Free Bird_ by Lynyrd Skynyrd was playing loudly through Gotham's streets.

“So now what?” Edward asked.

“Now we wait,” the boy with the scar averted his gaze

“For what?” Oswald asked.

“The next signal,” the vested boy started packing his bag.

“And what's that?” Oswald was standing next to Edward now, irritated.

“When the song gets to four minutes and forty seconds,” the woman in the purple mask spoke.

“What happens at four minutes and forty seconds?” Ed asked, a slight smile creeping on his face, knowing full well that that is the point in the song where the tempo picks up.

“That'll be our cue to run downstairs towards the garage and get to the getaway car,” she replied, “So... are you really them?”

“If by _them _you mean the Riddler and the Penguin, then yes. We're them,” Oswald growled, “And who are _you _exactly?”

“Yeah... Sorry,” She removed her purple mask and held out her hand, “Helena Wayne. I believe you know my parents.”

Oswald hesitantly reached out to shake her hand but found himself stumbling backwards. The crackling sound of a taser startling him. Edward had thrown himself between Oswald and his assailant- the boy with the scar. His eyes were dark and face expressionless. He reminded Oswald a lot of Ed.

“Calm down, Eli,” Helena rolled her eyes

“I'm Eugene! And _no. _I will _not _calm down,” He pointed the taser at Ed and Oswald

After a few silent glares shared amongst the teenagers, the boy with the scar pocketed his taser and went back to work packing his things.

“Ignore them,” she said, “They're just on edge... This is weird for them.”

“Weird for _them?” _Oswald made a face, “I still don't know what the hell is going on. Who are you people?”

“We're friends,” she said, “Provided you aren't lying.”

“How do we know you aren't the liars?” Oswald sneered, “You said that your name was Helena Wayne?”

“I did,” she straightened her posture. She looked a lot like Bruce Wayne in that moment.

“See... that doesn't make sense,” Oswald shook his head, “Because no one has heard from Bruce Wayne since reunification. And you look just as old as he was last time I had the pleasure of being in his company.”

Helena's eyes widened. The twins swiveled in their chairs and stared.

“Um... how long has it been since reunification for you guys?” Eli asked

Oswald blinked in confusion and looked towards Edward for answers. Edward was almost completely disassociated at this point. Unable to process all of the information that was being thrown at him. Something about the name of the boy with the scar sent his mind in a spiral.

“Eight months,” Oswald explained.

“Wow... um... That's...” Helena stammered.

“We're at four minutes.” Edward finally spoke, interrupting the conversation.

“Right... Forty seconds,” she turned to the twins who were both staring at one another and refusing to look at the criminal duo, “You done packing up?”

“Yeah,” Eugene said, a tremor in his voice.

“We're good to go,” Eli spoke in a similar tone.

“Good... um...” she loaded a bolt into her crossbow, “Just stick close to me. Okay?”

“You aren't going to give us weapons?” Oswald squawked.

“Sorry. We don't trust you,” Helena explained.

“And you expect us to trust you?” Oswald gestured between the three teenagers. They all nodded their heads.

“Wonderful,” Edward rolled his eyes

Edward and Oswald seethed. They hated not having control over their situations. Both of them vibrated under the weight of their frustration. Not only were they expected to place their livelihood into the hands of_ literal_ children, but they weren't even sure this was Gotham City anymore. It certainly wasn't how they left it.

They are even more confused when the doors to the Siren's were flung open and they were led through the halls and down to the car in the alleyway. Along the way, they witnessed the violence that was typical of Gotham City: Masked criminals fighting masked criminals. Bullets flying. Knives shining. But... at other times, Ed and Oswald witnessed displays of power that they couldn't quite understand. One masked figure seemed to be moving at inhuman speeds and even _caught_ a bullet at one point. Another appeared to lift and throw a car across the road and into the window of a neighboring business.

This was definitely_ not_ the Gotham they remembered.

They sped through the city until the music faded into the background. Oswald hitched a breath when he realized their destination.

_Oh, sweet familiarity._

The Van Dahl estate was just as he'd left it.

They pulled up and were instructed to leave the getaway car by each of the twins- Eli with a gun aimed at the Penguin and Eugene with a gun trained on the Riddler. They were only sixteen but neither adult wanted to risk a bullet trying to wrestle the guns away from them.

They entered the foyer and were met by a young woman in a maid's uniform. She was blonde. Her hair pulled tightly back and eyes wide in shock as she muttered something in Russian. The twins walked passed her and escorted the two men into the sitting room.

“Anya, go make us some tea, please,” A woman was standing in front of the fire, facing away from them.

“Yes, Madam,” Anya bowed her head and left towards the kitchen.

“Eugene. Elijah... Go to your rooms.”

“But-”

“NOW!”

The boys fled for the stairs as the woman turned to face them.

She's not much taller than Oswald. Her hair black and wavy. She's pale with blue-green eyes... and wielding a shotgun. She cocks the gun loudly.

“Shirts off,” she demanded.

“What? I-” Oswald stammered.

“I _said _take your shirts off.”

Oswald looked up at Edward who just shrugged. They both started unbuttoning their clothes and, as Oswald lifted his dress shirt out of his pants, he realized why they were doing it. He looked up at the woman and lifted the fabric just far enough for her to see the scar on his abdomen. Edward did the same and showed the knife scar he received from Lee on his side.

The woman paled and leaned in to examine their scars. She pulled Oswald closer and moved the fabric away from his shoulder- revealing the star-patterned scar from when he first met Edward. She also paid close attention to the scarring around Oswald's eye and the small incision along Edward's hairline from when his head had been stapled back together.

“Whoever made you is an artist,” she said

Edward and Oswald weren't sure how to respond to that. Edward spoke up first.

“I assure you, Miss... Um?” Edward had a guess for what her name might've been but he didn't want to risk being wrong. He was still piecing together the puzzle.

“You don't need to know my name,” the woman spoke.

“Yes... right. Well... I assure you that we are who we say we are,” Ed gave a reaffirming nod of his head

“You'll forgive me if I don't believe you,” she crossed her arms, “This certainly won't have been the first time that our enemies sent clones to destabilize my family.”

“Family?” Oswald paled, “Wait- Clones?! We aren't clones.”

There was a loud knock on the door. The woman looked up at Anya the maid who had just entered the room with a kettle of tea.

“Hide them.”

“Come,” Anya hurried them into a secret passage overlooking the sitting room. The two men positioned themselves so that they could see through the slats in a faux vent cover. The woman sat down and sipped at her tea as Anya escorted the entourage of police officers and an older, mustachioed James Gordon.

“Gertrude Cobblepot, you are under arrest,” Jim's voice was unmistakable.

Oswald and Edward hitched their breaths. Edward's eyes widened as his suspicions are confirmed. For a moment, he's lost in the tailspin and doesn't notice how much Oswald is shaking.

“No, I'm not,” She sipped her tea defiantly

“Excuse me?” Jim growled

“You're trespassing,” she glared, “And you have no reason to arrest me.”

“I have all of the reason I need.”

Gertrude clicked her tongue, “Uncle Jim, I'm surprised at you. You weren't always so cold towards me.”

Jim rolled his eyes, “You are under arrest for orchestrating the attack on the Siren's Club tonight.”

“I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about. I was here with the twins and Anya having dinner.”

“And before that?”

“I was at the Lounge going over the changes to our menu. Just ask my staff.”

“And what about Elijah and Eugene?”

“They were here the whole time playing videogames.”

“Witnesses say they were spotted near the Siren's an hour ago.”

“Well, your witnesses are wrong. They were at home all evening,” She took another sip of her tea, “Why not check the GCTV feeds? Isn't that why our Mayor had them installed?”

“Someone hacked into them,” Jim growled, looking somewhat defeated.

“Pity,” she sipped her tea loudly this time. Edward and Oswald had to choke back their laughter.

“Your brothers are skilled hackers. They could have done it.”

“I do not doubt their skills but, unless you have some kind of proof or a warrant to search their rooms, I will not tolerate you accusing them of such things,” she scowled, “I hear Damien Wayne is equally skilled. He's also known to be a trouble maker. Why not bother Bruce?”

Jim sighed, “The Wayne's don't have the same history that you do.”

“So, because my parents were _criminals_, you are accusing me of... what, exactly? You said something about the Sirens Club. Is everyone alright?” she pretended to sound concerned. It was an act Jim Gordon didn't fall for easily but the other police officers were beginning to question the validity of the arrest.

Jim sighed. Even if he forced Gertrude to come into the precinct, there wasn't much evidence to keep her in the bullpen. She had money and powerful allies. Arresting her wouldn't be worth the headache in the end.

“Fine. But if I find anything that links you or your brothers to this, I'm bringing you in.”

“I would expect nothing less from you, Commissioner.”

Jim and his officers turned to leave.

“Oh... and Uncle Jim?” she called out.

“Yeah?” Jim sighed.

“Please stop by tomorrow afternoon,” She set the teacup and saucer on the side table, “I have some _information_ regarding a case that you're working on.”

“Which one?”

“It's not exactly something we should discuss with so many witnesses present,” She narrowed her gaze.

Jim seemed to understand what she meant and nodded his head. He left without another word.

As the doors closed, Gertrude's shoulders relaxed and she opened the bottle of wine sitting on the table. She didn't even bother pouring it into a glass.

“You can come out now,” She took a swig from the bottle.

Edward and Oswald stepped out from their hiding space. Edward attempted to dust cobwebs away from Oswald's face and hair. Oswald just slapped his hand away and glared. He limped his way towards the woman currently guzzling down wine like a drowning man.

“So... you're name is _Gertrude,_” Oswald sneered.

“It is.”

“You're named after my mother,” his nostrils flared.

“I am.”

Oswald laughed, “This is _quite_ the elaborate game the Joker is playing. Don't you think so, Eddie?”

Oswald turned to face his friend and was startled by the look on his face. He looked equal parts mortified and elated.

“Ed-”

“-How long has it been since Reunification?” Ed interrupted, “The woman we met earlier, Helena Wayne, and your brothers were surprised when we told them it had only been eight months for us.”

Gertrude's eyes widened.

“See... even you're surprised,” Ed smiled, “So how long has it been?”

“Thirty years.”

“Excuse me?!” Oswald yelled, “Ed, you don't actually believe this do you?”

“I do... yeah,” Edward admitted.

“What? Really, Eddie? You don't believe in _ghosts_ but you believe in _time travel-_”

“-I believe in science and logic. Facts. Things that I've experienced. And there is plenty of evidence to support that we have, in fact, traveled thirty years into the future.”

“That's an interesting story you're going with,” Gertrude raised an eyebrow.

“This is absurd! Do you honestly expect me to believe that this woman is... what? My _daughter_ from the future?”

“Look at her, Oswald,” Ed's voice cracked.

Oswald rolled his eyes and looked down at the woman seated in front of him. Her features were sharp. The light from the fire accentuated her cheekbones and pointed nose. Her hair fell about her shoulders in unruly curls much like how his mothers did. But this woman's hair was black and feathery like his own. More than just her features, however, was the similarity in their facial expressions and subtle movements. In the way she sat. The way she held the wine bottle. The way she angrily tongued the inside of her cheek. It was like looking in a mirror that was _wrong._

“So what happens now?” Edward asked.

“I haven't decided,” she said, setting the bottle of wine loudly onto the table, “But you can start by telling me how the hell you got into this mess.”

So they explained everything. How they were robbing the bank when they heard the sirens. How they saw Jeremiah and Jerome Valeska in the alleyway with a strange device. How Edward had been curious and touched the odd crystalline light that sent them tumbling to the ground and apparently thirty years into the future.

Gertrude seemed to be taking mental notes. She perked up at a few of the details and pointedly rolled her eyes when Edward got lost in thought explaining all of the details about the riddles he had hidden throughout the city to keep Jim Gordon occupied during the heist.

“You're excellent actors, I'll give you that,” She scoffed.

“What is it going to take to get you to believe us?” Oswald asked in a huff.

“I haven't killed you yet. What more do you want from me?” Gertrude sneered.

“Well, I wish you would give us a chance to prove ourselves instead of treating us like imposters,” Oswald growled.

“Fine. Whatever,” Gertrude rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. Her glare never leaving her hardened features, “Tell me something only we would know.”

“Wha- How am I supposed to know that? There is a thirty-year gap between my time and this one!”

“Get creative,” she scowled, “What is one piece of advice you would have given me as a child?”

Oswald pondered for a moment and then looked around the room...What would he have said?

“My father died in this room,” Oswald's expression cracked under the weight of his emotions, as they were oft to do, “Right here. In fact...” He gestured to the chair he was sitting in, “I confess, it is taking everything in me not to scream.”

“How my grandfather died is a matter of public record. Anyone could get that information,” Gertrude didn't sound impressed.

“Yes... of course,” Oswald inhaled, and steeled himself for the remainder of the conversation, “I only knew him for a month. We met at my mother's grave a few days after I was released from Arkham. We realized who we were to each other and, after I told him that I had nowhere to go, he insisted I come home with him,” Oswald smiled at the memory, “He welcomed me with open arms. He didn't know who I was or what I had done... what kind of person I was... all he saw was his son and the time he had lost. He introduced me to his wife, Grace, and her children, Sasha and Charles. He said we were going to be one big happy family.” Oswald rolled his eyes, “I was grateful for them... but...”

“But?” Gertrude raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“But I was still so lost.” Oswald's voice cracked, “My mother was dead. My friends had all abandoned me.”

Edward winced. Gertrude took notice but said nothing.

“I didn't know who I was,” Oswald blinked away tears, “My whole identity had been stripped from me. Ripped out of me with such violence that I wished they had just killed me... I wanted to go back. I wanted to feel like myself again but anytime my thoughts became clouded or I had a negative impulse, I would get sick and be plagued with nightmares. Visions... Horrible hallucinations.”

Edward was staring at his friend. His own pain and regret for leaving him in Arkham were evident. Oswald had always been guarded about his experiences at Arkham Asylum. He claimed he didn't want to burden Edward with the knowledge of what he had endured.

“One day I found a gun in my dresser,” He rolled his eyes, “In hindsight, I wouldn't be surprised to find out that Grace was the one who put it there...”

“Go on,” Gertrude's voice was still as emotionless as when they had first started.

“My father came into my room and found me with the gun in my mouth,” he confessed.

Edward made a noise. Oswald turned to him and gave him a reassuring smile. His hand placed firmly atop Edward's. He squeezed and then returned his gaze to the young woman.

“We didn't speak about it for two whole weeks,” he smiled, “Then he told me about how his father had committed suicide. Shot himself... How my father had been the one to discover him. How his father- my grandfather- had been plagued with negative emotions. Suffered melancholy...” Oswald's eyes narrowed, his point finally becoming clearer, “How it runs in our family.”

Gertrude's expression remained impartial.

“I can tell that you suffer just the same as I do. I certainly don't know the specifics. How could I?... but I can see it.” Oswald subtly nodded to the now empty bottle of wine in her hand, “And I would hope I would have imparted the same wisdom he bestowed on me.”

“And what did he tell you?” she asked.

“Not to give in to the darkness,” he smiled, “That I was loved and that I was not alone,” his eyes were fixed to the black and white checkered floor, “Of course.... that didn't last long. He was dead shortly after telling me that. And I was alone again-”

Oswald looked up and locked eyes with the young woman... And there it was.

The thick coats of varnish that had yellowed with age melted away from Gertrude's exterior. All that was left was a sad and lonely little girl. She inhaled a shaky breath and stood. She smoothed the wrinkles away from her shirt front.

“Did I pass your test?” he asked

“I can fly without wings. Always moving forward but can never reverse. What am I?”

Oswald was suddenly taken aback by her change in demeanor. And even more so by her usage of a _riddle_, of all things. He could barely think straight to answer.

“We'll give you all of the time that you need,” Ed said, answering her riddle.

“Thank you,” Gertrude wiped tears from her eyes and left the room without another word.

They listened as her footsteps ascended the stairs and the sound of a door closing echoed through the mansion.

“Eddie... what is happening?” Oswald asked, still confused and unwilling to fully accept their situation.

Edward pulled his friend into a hug. He wasn't sure what the answer to his question was. He was still biting the inside of his cheeks and clenching his eyes open and shut in an attempt to wake up from whatever horrible nightmare they had fallen into. But, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't.

They were trapped there with no way out but forward.


	2. The Simplest Solution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you hadn't read the tags the first time, there is smut in this chapter. If it ain't your cup of tea, skip the ending.
> 
> It's also only my second time even writing it and I had to breeze through most of it so the chapter didn't drag on longer than it already did.

It had been several hours since Gertrude retreated upstairs. The only company they had in this foreign version of Gotham was the maid, Anya, who only stopped by to make sure they had plenty of tea and wood for the fire. It was nearly three in the morning before anyone disturbed them.

It was one of the twins. He was no longer wearing his vest and buttoned shirt and changed into a comfier pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded t-shirt with a band logo neither Ed nor Oswald recognized. Which was to be expected given the thirty years they were missing.

“G said to give you this,” He handed Edward a manila envelope. Boxed edges and overstuffed with scraps of paper and photographs.

“Thank you,” Ed smiled, “Your name is Elijah, correct?”

“Yup,” Elijah smiled back in a way that was not unlike Edward's before he was the Riddler. His posture was straight and his hands were clasped tightly behind his back, “I'm named after my grandfather,” His eyes flickered up for a brief moment towards Oswald and then back to the floor.

Oswald couldn't help but wonder at him. Gertrude was unmistakably related to him but the twins were another story altogether. They resembled Edward in every way fathomable. Down to the fact that there were two of them.

“I know you have a lot of questions,” Elijah spoke, “You'll find most of your answers in that file.”

“Thank you, Elijah,” Oswald spoke, “You should get some rest. It's late and you've certainly earned it after saving us like you did.”

Elijah, in one brisk move, threw his arms around Oswald's neck. His father squeaked and then rubbed circles into the boy's back. The gesture came naturally. Eli did the same with Edward but he had stiffened like driftwood at the sudden affection from the teenager.

Elijah pulled away with a stutter and adjusted his glasses, “G-goodnight,” Elijah sniffled and then hurried back upstairs.

Oswald let out the breath he was holding. Everything about their situation and the reality of it all had finally started to sink in. Not only had they stumbled onto some ploy orchestrated by the Valeskas that sent them thirty years into the future... but he had _kids_. More than one! And at least one was biologically related to him...

Exhaustion should have engulfed him so late in the night but he was overcome with whatever _this _was that he couldn't let his mind rest. His own memories and experiences flashing before him like a flip-book. There are more questions than he could count and knew that they wouldn't all be answered by the contents of that folder. He needed to talk to Jim. Hell, he wanted to talk to _Ed_ from this time. Surely they were still friends? The Riddler of this new and strange time would likely have the answers he needed.

Edward's hand atop his own broke him from his thoughts.

“Would you like to go over this together?” Edward asked, holding the envelope.

Oswald nodded his head. They opened the manila folder and revealed a series of files all labeled _Project: LEVIATHAN._ The majority of them were confiscated notes and disorganized lab work from Professor Hugo Strange. Edward took the liberty of reading those and handed Oswald the police file on Strange as well as a stack of miscellaneous papers.

The more they read, the more their eyes widened in shock.

“Oh my god,” Oswald shook his head, “Ed, this is...”

“Yeah,” Edward closed the file and stood up. Shaking his hands vigorously before pressing them into his eyes. A habit he had when he was anxious and needed to quiet the noise in his head.

Project Leviathan, as they discovered, was a cloning project run by Hugo Strange. Much of his research involving the genetic manipulation of the Arkham patients had been a stepping stone in fulfilling Project Leviathan. The goal of which was to isolate mutated genes found in the DNA of certain subjects and then splice them into new hosts. Essentially creating a market for mutations that granted the user abilities and propelled the human race into the next phases of evolution. Hugo Strange, _The Philosopher_, saw himself as God and toyed with the human genome in order to get the results he required.

The earlier experiments were mortifying. Those that were lucky died in test tubes while others died on a slab only to have their bodies_ 're-purposed' _for later tests. Strange, in the infancy of his project, was woefully ambitious and spliced together too many varying components which made most of the subjects unstable. According to his notes, he resorted to using the DNA of only two hosts to create his clones. Once they showed signs of mutation, he would have them euthanized and collect their DNA to combine with another. Creating different combinations of complementary abilities and stacking their effects.

In a journal entry from one of Strange's notebooks, he talked about his inspiration for the project and how a copy of_ Leviathan_ by Thomas Hobbes was always within reach. He dreamed about creating the perfect being that possessed immense power and could eventually rule the world as its absolute monarch. And he, its creator, would be there to control it and reap the spoils of its achievements.

Oswald gasped as he pulled out the stack of (mercifully) black and white photographs. Each one was more cruel than the next. Vats of unidentified liquid housing half-formed monsters. Kennels full of beings that Oswald could only assume were once human or were _supposed _to be human. An abandoned lab full of small corpses.

“What does this have to do with us?” Oswald couldn't keep himself from crying.

There was a knock on the frame of the entryway. They both looked up and saw Gertrude standing in the doorway. Her hair is pulled back and her eyes are puffy. She'd obviously been crying but made an effort to make herself presentable to them.

“I made you dinner,” she gave a half-smile, “I wasn't sure when you two last ate.”

Both of their stomachs growled. The plan had been to have celebratory take-out after their bank heist. It was their go-to meal after a successful job. They had been so caught up in the chaos of the new world around them that they had forgotten to eat.

They followed her into the dining room and were delighted to discover that she had made goulash. Oswald was quick to dig into his bowl.

“This is my mother's recipe,” Oswald wiped a tear from his eye.

“It is,” she smiled, “It was always our tradition to make it for each other whenever one of us came home from a trip. I figured thirty years into a confusing future is a pretty long trip.”

“So, you believe us now?” Oswald asked, his tone exposing his eagerness to be accepted by the woman.

“I do,” she said, “You'll forgive my hesitation... I buried you a month ago. That wound is still a little fresh. You understand.”

“...Oh,” Oswald stared into the contents of his bowl. Well,_ that_ explains why none of his children could look him in the eye, “Sorry for your loss?”

Gertrude chuckled, “It is what it is,” She wiped tears away again, “Please. Eat. Tell me if I got it right. I'm usually not the one who cooks, but Eugene is already asleep.”

The goulash warmed his insides. He never knew nostalgia could taste so good, “It's amazing!” he beamed, “You use more paprika than my mother.”

“And yet I _still_ use less than you ever did,” she laughed. She looked over at Edward who was moving chunks of meat around in his bowl with a furrowed brow, “Not to your liking?”

“No... I mean_ yes!_ It's delicious,” he corrected, “I just... It's hard to find an appetite right now,” his eyes flickered over to the manila folder.

“I guess I should have warned you,” she grimaced, “It probably gave you even more questions than answers. What else needs explaining?”

“All of it,” Oswald made a noise, “What does _that _have to do with our situation now?”

“Jeremiah and Jerome Valeska arrived in Gotham a few months ago. Since then, they've been collecting metahumans for their gangs and brought a chaos to Gotham's streets that no one even knew existed. Parts of town, especially near the Narrows, rival No Man's Land according to those who lived during that time.”

“Like the gang fights we saw when we were fleeing the city?” Oswald asked

“_That_ was Operation Free Bird. We use music as a way of communicating while on missions. That one was his idea,” She nodded to Edward, her mouth curling mischievously, “Whenever you got in a tough spot, we would hack the PA system and play that song. It sent a signal to all of our allies to cause as much of a distraction around the city while we got you to safety.”

“I take it the pun was intentional?” Oswald glared at Ed who responded by feigning offense.

They talked until sunrise. Gertrude spent the night and early morning answering as many of their questions as she could. Until, of course, they got to the obvious one they had all been avoiding...

“So... who is your mother exactly?” Oswald asked, unsure of himself and fiddling with a loose thread on the tablecloth.

Gertrude couldn't stifle her laugh, “Mother? Really?”

“Well... y-you got here somehow!” Oswald blushed

“Don't worry, Apa. You didn't run off into the night with some painted hussy.”

Oswald made a sound at the word _“Apa” _but took it in stride.

“Sorry. I thought it was obvious based on the file. I was one of Strange's experiments.”

“Oh!” Oswald's eyes lit up, everything suddenly making sense, “So you're a clone?”

“Technically, no,” she explained, “My DNA isn't identical to yours. Yours was one of the samples used to create me. That's all.”

“How did Hugo Strange get my DNA in the first place?” Oswald shivered at the violation of his person.

“Do you remember all of that _'routine blood work'_ you had at Arkham?” she asked.

“...I guess that makes sense,” Oswald nodded. Understanding. Edward nodded also. He had the same experiences when Hugo Strange was the warden at Arkham. He shivered at the thought of Strange using his DNA for such dubious means.

“He made the discovery of mutagens back then. Nowadays, metahumans are a common occurrence,” she explained, “Gotham has a high concentration of them. People say our water is to blame.”

“Most likely it's due to the high crime rate causing them to manifest,” Ed added. The notes said that latent mutant abilities were often triggered by trauma- Victor Fries and Ivy Pepper were two notable examples. Hence why Strange pooled all of his focus in Arkham where the city's most traumatized citizens were housed.

“True. There was an influx after No Man's Land,” Gertrude said, “And even _more_ lately with the Valeska's running around. Honestly, the sudden influx is more than a little alarming.”

“If you don't mind me asking... how did you escape Strange's lab?” Oswald shifted in his chair, “The police file said that all of the subjects were dead when they were found.”

“Not all of them,” she said, “That was left out of the report for our protection. Hugo Strange was apprehended and sent to Blackgate. He didn't inform anyone about the location of the lab and so we were all left to starve.”

Oswald's emotions were clearly painted across his face. His mouth hung open, unable to process words with any finesse.

“We were trapped underground for two months before Batman and Uncle James found the lab,” Gertrude frowned, “Everyone was dead except me.”

“How did you even survive?” Ed asked.

“I am remarkably difficult to kill...” her voice trailed.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked,” Oswald placed a hand on her shoulder.

“No. It's quite alright. You were curious,” she sniffled, “After I was found, I lived with Uncle Jim and Auntie Leslie while Batman collected what was left of the lab notes.”

“Who the hell is Batman?” Oswald asked.

Gertrude rolled her eyes, “A thorn in the side of the Rogue's Gallery.”

“Sounds delightful,” Edward scoffed.

“He ran some tests in order to see who I was made from. Probably so that they knew what to expect from me as I got older,” she rolled her eyes, “They were scared of me. Rightfully so, I suppose. Given the nature of the experiments and the DNA used in my creation.”

“So, they ran a paternity test and discovered that Oswald was the closest thing to a father you had and they just... abandoned you on his doorstep?” Edward seemed taken aback by the notion.

“Not _exactly_... After discovering who my parents were, they tried to send me away. Said that I would have a better life if I was as far away from Gotham as possible. But...”

“But?” Oswald raised an eyebrow

“But you hijacked the car of the child services worker and brought me here.”

They all laughed. It sounded like something they would have done.

“And what about Eugene and Elijah?” Oswald asked

“After the discovery of metahumans, Hugo Strange was able to make a deal with the military which allowed him to be released so long as he did research for them.”

“God bless, America,” Oswald rolled his eyes.

“Which, of course, he took full advantage of and started Project Leviathan again. This time, funded by our very own Government!” she angrily threw her arms up in the air, “We found the twins when the lab was raided. They're just like me.”

“Well... I hope I was able to provide a happy home for the three of you.”

“Four,” she corrected.

“Four? There's another one of you?” Oswald's eyes widened.

“Martin,” she smiled, “You adopted him before I was born.”

Oswald smiled widely and blinked away unshed tears. His heart was filled to bursting.

“And you did,” she beamed, “Provide a happy home, that is.”

Edward smiled at the pair. His mouth hanging open in adoration. The fact that Oswald had such a happy future ahead of him made his heart sing. It was the kind of future Oswald was always struggling to achieve. His motivations for climbing to the throne of Gotham were all for the expressed purpose of settling down and living the comfortable life he knew he wouldn't be able to have otherwise. No one was allowed a happy life in Gotham without immense struggle and questionable morals. Now, they had proof that it was a tangible future.

Edward couldn't help but wonder where he fit in. Oswald had died, but what about him? How was the Ed of _this _time holding up? Was he mourning his friend? Was he alone?

“Parents,” Ed spoke abruptly and cleared his throat, “Plural. You said that Batman discovered who your _parents_ were.”

Oswald, realizing that Edward was correct, looked to Gertrude for the answer. He was just as curious. Gertrude sorted through the stack of papers in the folder until she found what she was looking for. She stared at it for a moment and hesitated to deliver it. Suddenly, she clutched the paper to her chest.

“You know what... It's late. We should get some sleep and continue this conversation in the morning,” She stood up and folded the paper into the pocket of her dressing gown, “Anya! Could you get them a room- _rooms_ ready? They'll be staying here until further notice.”

Edward and Oswald stared at one another, not entirely sure how to progress. They shrugged and decided that it was probably for the best that they got some well-deserved rest after the day that they had. Tomorrow was looking to be just as tiring.

They were shown their rooms and thanked Anya- who they learned was Olga's niece- and turned to tuck in for the evening. Oswald looked at the locked door to the master bedroom as they passed by it in the hall.

“I didn't have the heart to unlock your room...” Gertrude said, “No one's been in there since...”

“Don't worry,” Oswald gave a sad smile and placed a hand on her shoulder, “I understand.”

Edward couldn't sleep. Daylight seeped in through the window and his mind was spinning. What was Gertrude hiding? It was a puzzle and he was determined to solve it before he allowed himself to sleep. He threw the blanket off of him and made his way towards Oswald's room. He gently knocked on the door and wasn't too surprised to hear the other man snoring. Edward quietly tiptoed into the room where Oswald had placed his coat. He found the keyring for the manor and tucked them away in his own pocket.

“Ed...” Oswald snored.

Edward spun around and stared at his friend's sleeping form- Worried he might have woken him. But Oswald had simply called out to his friend in his sleep. 

“Rest well, my feathered friend,” Ed pulled the blanket around Oswald's shoulders before making his exit and ventured down the creaky hallway towards the master bedroom. He could have picked the lock, but sneaking into Oswald's room to steal his keys was more fun.

Edward wasn't entirely certain what he was looking at when he flipped the light switch. The amber light illuminated the room with a pleasant glow. It looked mostly the same as it did in their time. However, there was a familiar green and purple quilt draped across the over-sized bed. Across the room were rows of bookshelves lining the walls by the bay window. Oswald was partial to fiction, but these appeared to be textbooks. Everything from autobiographies to books on theoretical mathematics.

Edward heard a noise behind him and lets out a compulsory yelp. He turned on his heels and saw Gertrude standing there.

“S-sorry... I was... just...” Ed stammered.

“It's fine,” Gertrude swiped some dust away, “I lied earlier.”

“Oh?”

“When I said no one had been in here since he died,” she sat on the bed, “I couldn't sleep much afterward. The sheets still smelled like him so I would come in here.”

“I didn't mean to intrude on that,” Ed furrowed his brow in guilt.

“It's alright,” she looked up at him, “I missed you too, by the way.”

“Oh?” he sighed, “Am I not around either?”

“You died a few years ago. Brain cancer,” she teared up, “Promise me you'll go to the doctor after you get home? And _keep going. _You were always stubborn about hospitals. In the end, I think _that's _what killed you.”

Edward blinked in stunned silence. That explained where the him from this time was. His temples suddenly throbbed, “I promise.”

“Good,” she swallowed the lump in her throat

Silent tears streamed down Gertrude's face. It was disarming how similar she and Oswald looked when they cried. She shared a lot of his features from back when he was Mayor. Before all of the betrayal and before No Man's Land made him into a warlord.

“... You gave me a set of lock picks for my tenth birthday,” she spoke, breaking the agonizing stillness.

“I did?” he chuckled, sitting down on the bed next to her, “Sounds like me.”

“Growing up, I gravitated to stories about pirates. I longed for adventure, danger, hidden treasure... There was this music box in the foyer that I always loved. Inlaid mother-of-pearl and emerald green enamel. It was a gift that my father cherished.,” she smiled, “I used to steal it.”

Edward smiled fondly as she continued. He wasn't entirely certain where the conversation was going but he enjoyed listening to her speak. It was like having that piece of Oswald back.

“You would hide it around the house and give me riddles so that I could find it,” she laughed, “On my birthday, when you gave me the lock picks, you told me that I could have the music box if I figured out how to open it. But you wouldn't show me how to use the damn things!”

Edward laughed, “Of course not! You have to figure it out on your own. Lockpicking is a very important skill.”

“That's exactly what you said!” she smiled, giving him a lighthearted shove, “I was so focused on solving that puzzle that I didn't even bother opening my other presents. I didn't even eat my cake. Granny Olga was so mad! _Ungrateful child!_ She called me...” she imitated Olga's thick Russian accent

“Did you manage to open it?” he asked, amused at the idea of a tiny version of Oswald's obsessing over a puzzle.

“I stayed up all night. But, no matter how hard I tried... I couldn't. I started crying and that's when Apa found me,” she sniffled, “He asked me what was wrong and I explained it. He laughed and told me a story about how when Alexander the Great encountered the Gordian Knot that he merely split it in two with his sword.”

Edward's eyes widened, “Sometimes the simplest solution is best,” Edward recalled his advice to Oswald years ago. He was deeply enamored with the fact that his words had been impactful enough to have been carried all the way to Gertrude.

“Yes,” she smiled, her gaze distant as she looked on at some unknown memory.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“I smashed it onto the floor,” she scrunched her nose, like a scorned child.

Edward burst out into laughter, “Did that work?”

“It did! Apa was beside himself,” she laughed, pulling a small green and white music box from the pocket of her robe, “But, I was able to put it back together.”

Edward held it in his hands and felt a lump form in his throat. The outside was decorated with Emperor penguins. Iridescent mother-of-pearl on their bellies and surrounded by green enamel and jewels. The inside housed a small drum and gold-colored assembly. It was all held together with an intricate network of small gears. The idea of a ten-year-old child putting such a complex work of art back together astounded him. He felt a sense of pride he couldn't quite explain. He turned the key and found himself unable to breathe when he heard the first notes of Oswald's favorite lullaby.

Edward's heart ached. He looked up at the side table next to the bed and walked towards it. He picked up the framed photograph and held it in his hands. The weight of it grounded him in place.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked.

“Yeah... I think I did.”

* * *

Edward was still awake when Oswald finally dragged himself downstairs. After his talk with Gertrude, he'd spent the rest of his morning watching the news and reading the Gotham Gazette. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the idea of time travel and needed to form some notion of what life was like in this time period.

“I take it yesterday wasn't actually a dream?” Oswald's hair was tousled in a way Edward couldn't help but find cute.

“Afraid not,” Edward rubbed the strain from his eyes.

“Is anyone else awake?” Oswald poured himself a mug of coffee and grimaced at how strong it was. He was never a fan and Edward always made it thicker than oil. But he drank to his health and prayed that the extra caffeine would get him through their ordeal.

“The boys are still sleeping. Gertrude left for the Lounge an hour ago. Said she was going to get ready for Jim to arrive this afternoon.”

“You mean that old man we saw yesterday?” Oswald smirked, “The salt and pepper is a good look on him, I must say.”

“Must you?” Edward rolled his eyes and swallowed to tamp down his sudden jealousy. Jim Gordon always was a sore spot with him when it came to Oswald.

The smaller man gave Edward a look. Unsure of how to interpret his friend's words. Edward cleared his throat and gulped down the coffee that was beginning to get cold.

Jim Gordon greeted them the only way he knew how: With a shocked look and an exasperated _“Oh shit.”_ spewing from his mouth involuntarily.

To their surprise, Jim wasn't all that confused by their presence. Just shocked that it had been _them_ that traveled through time after the chaotic duo. Jim and Batman had been investigating the Valeskas and their time travel capability since they were first spotted near their base in the Narrows. Having the Penguin and the Riddler available to answer questions about what they saw that night and where they were when they got transported was a blessing.

“Have you called Bruce?” Jim asked.

“Why the hell would I call Bruce Wayne?” Gertrude wore a look on her face like she tasted something foul.

“You know why,” he rubbed at his temples.

“I would sooner gnaw off my own arm,” she said, a sharpened tone that resembled Oswald's when he was flustered.

“You might want to rethink your stance on that. Last time I talked to him and Grayson, they were working on reverse-engineering the Joker's device,” Jim explained, “Now that we know the exact location of the alleyway where you four arrived, we're one step closer to getting you two back in your own time and out of my hair.”

“You really plan on helping us get back home?” Oswald asked.

“That's the plan,” Jim said, “But not until we've apprehended Jeremiah and Jerome Valeska.”

“Of course,” Oswald said, “We are at your disposal. Anything you need to help capture them, we're there.”

“Yeah... How about you stay out of this one?” Jim made a face that Ed and Oswald could just barely recognize as familiar under all of the wrinkles and facial hair.

“You can't be serious,” Ed glared.

“Dead serious. Stay out of our way and I'll make sure I get you two home in one piece.” he glared back, “I don't need the two of you causing any more trouble for us. We've got our hands full as it is.”

“Well, what do you expect us to do in the meantime?” Oswald growled.

“Enjoy your vacation,” Jim gave him a fake smile.

The Commissioner said his goodbyes, thanked them for their time, and even gave the two of them a genuine smile for once. It seemed that their relationship wasn't all ice and razors in the future.

The moment the door closed, Edward piped in, “We aren't actually going to do what he says, are we?”

“Absolutely not,” Gertrude said, “I've already sent word to our allies. We're meeting at the Lounge tomorrow morning.”

They spent the entire day together- Much to the irritation of the two time-travelers. They had hoped to sort out some kind of plan of attack against the Joker Twins. Ed had already mapped out a sophisticated plan to infiltrate their base in the Narrows using their connections to Doc Leslie and Edward's memory of the district's structure.

News that the Penguin and the Riddler were somehow up to their old tricks had already spread through Gotham's underworld. In order to snuff out those rumors and keep their presence a secret, Gertrude insisted that they lay low. To that end, they spent the entire day and evening at the Van Dahl mansion. Their only interruptions being from Victor Zsasz and Helena Wayne who were delivering messages to Gertrude concerning their eventual plans.

Eugene and Elijah cooked dinner. At least until Eugene started throwing clumps of wet flour at his brother and yelling at him to get out of _his_ kitchen. Elijah, for all of his methodical thinking, hadn't gotten the hang on cooking. He could barely boil water. Anya eventually got fed up with the boys and chased the both of them out with a marble rolling pin. After dinner, they all settled into the sitting room... Like a family. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

The Riddler felt like he was floating. Like a ghost looking in. Eugene and Elijah were arguing over which character in their fighting game had the best move-set. Elijah had done the math and found the most efficient set of combinations. Eugene, on the other hand, found the character he could use the fastest and often beat Elijah's mathematical strategies simply by being quicker on the draw. However, when Eugene wasn't quick enough, Eli easily dominated the match and his brother's character was juggled across the screen in spite of his aggressive button mashing. Edward could usually tell in whose favor the match would go based on the first few seconds of the bout.

Gertrude and Oswald are talking about the Lounge. She had been managing the multi-story establishment for over a year and had already made changes to its structure. She was explaining the elaborate network of hidden conference and panic rooms throughout the building. She also explained how they were utilized for more _illicit_ purposes- meetings with crime families and gangs, arms dealing, smuggling, and the like. Gertrude just got done explaining the details of a clever manipulation she orchestrated that made them millions richer.

“You're brilliant!” Oswald was overcome with pride and kissed Gertrude's forehead, “Isn't she brilliant?” he turned to Edward and frowned suddenly, “Ed?”

Edward inhaled and gasped at the sharp pain in his chest and lungs. His eyes stung and his face was wet.

“Eddie, what's the matter?” Oswald gripped Ed by the shoulders.

“I'm perfectly fine,” Edward smiled at how true the statement actually was. He hadn't felt fractured once since his conversation with Gertrude. He felt pinpricks crawl across his skin as oxygen re-filled his lungs and blood flow returned to normal.

The twins made themselves scarce and Gertrude turned her attention to the tea tray. She gathered up their wine glasses and scurried off down the hall to the kitchen. Leaving the two men-out-of-time alone by the fire.

“You're crying,” Oswald stated the obvious

Edward's entire body shook. He smashed the heel of his palms against his eyelids and groaned. He was overwhelmed.

“Don't worry, Ed. I promise I will get you home,” Oswald reassured him, wrongfully assuming the reasons for Edward's tears.

“I am home,” Ed blurted out, too high on his own emotions, “Anywhere you are is home.”

Oswald blushed. The tips of his ears were on fire and he suddenly found himself on unequal footing. He brushed his friend's comment aside and assumed he must've misheard or Ed had simply had far too much to drink.

“I'm sure Gecko and Quarry are missing you,” Oswald attempted to change the subject to something more familiar. In this instance, that emotion happened to be jealousy, “Once we get back to our own time, you can make it up to them. I'm sure,” he rolled his eyes.

“Echo and Query,” he corrected and then cleared his throat, “Are you implying what I _think_ you're implying?”

“Well, I just assumed,” Oswald flapped his arms, “You know, given your _tastes_ and penchant for being an idiot whenever someone bats their lashes at you.”

“They're just friends, Oswald,” The pitch in Edward's voice lowered at the insult, “Trust me. I'm not their type.”

“And you know that how?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Well... considering _they_ are a couple and have _no_ interest in men... I can safely assume.”

Oswald ran a hand down his face with an exasperated sigh. He slumped down onto the sofa and groaned at the awkward silence between them now.

“What happens if we don't find a way back?” Ed mused aloud.

“We pick up where we left off,” Oswald stared at the framed photos of his four children that were hung near the fireplace. Oswald quickly wiped the tear from his eyes, “My turn to cry, I suppose.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

Oswald looked at Edward and opened his mouth to speak. He found that he didn't have the words, “It's nothing. Don't worry about it.”

“Ozzie, I can't help you if you don't talk to me,” He instinctively leaned in closer to his friend

“You're one to talk,” he glared. After a moment, his face softened, “It's just... they're so perfect,” he exhaled. There was a smile on his face that Edward hadn't seen since he delivered a newly rescued Martin years ago.

“That they are,” Ed smiles, “But?”

“But looking at them makes me sad,” he shook his head, “It is a constant reminder of everything that I cannot have.”

“Why do you say that?” Edward gawked at him. What more could someone ask for?

“I can't help but wonder at the idea of...” Oswald blushed, “Well, raising four children is a big undertaking! One, I could see doing on my own. I had every intention of doing just that when I first met Martin. But four?” he shook his head, “Was I alone through all of this?”

Edward understood. He also realized that Oswald was hurting because he lacked a key piece to the puzzle.

“I could never have that kind of life.” Oswald shook his head, “Domestic bliss. Kids. Not with the lives we lead.”

“But you _do _ have that kind of life, Ozzie.” Ed smiled, “You were able to accomplish both.”

“Yes. But at what cost?” Oswald looked up at him, “What did I lose in order to achieve that?” Oswald's face contorted into unreadable anguish, “Where are _you_ in all of this?”

Edward hesitated. He wasn't sure if it was wise to let Oswald know about his fate. Knowing that Ed died and had possibly been too stubborn to go to the doctor when it was needed would just make him more upset. That was a conversation for later.

“I apologize... I don't know what's come over me. Forgive me,” Oswald sniffled.

“What's there to forgive?” Ed asked, “You're overwhelmed. This is a lot to take in.”

“It is,” Oswald stared out across the room. Looking at everything and yet nothing. His sadness evident.

“Oswald... look at me.”

Oswald refused.

“Ozzie.”

Oswald's eyes flickered over to his friend. He sighed and turned to face him.

“Do you still love me?” Ed asked, almost too quietly.

Oswald's face contorted. His mouth opening and closing and his chest tightening like there is a vice around his heart. He pulled the feathered robe tighter around him, “Edward, you can be cruel sometimes but this is a whole new level of-”

“-I'm not trying to be cruel, Ozzie,” he held Oswald's hand in his own, “I need to hear you say it. Are you still in love with me?”

Oswald opened his mouth. The words were there on the edge of his tongue but he had to strangle himself to get them to fall out. The whispered _yes_ resembling more like a broken, choking sound than an actual word.

They kiss like they're afraid of each other. Their lips just barely brushing against one another. When they pull apart, Edward noticed movement near the doorway. They both turned and saw Gertrude, Elijah, and Eugene peering around the corner at them. They realize they've been spotted and duck away.

Edward and Oswald both share a nervous laugh.

Edward pulls out the photograph he'd been hiding in his pocket. It's of the two of them curled up on the chaise lounge near the fireplace. A teenage Martin is seated between them and a dark-haired toddler is perched in Oswald's lap- Rings clearly visible on both of their hands.

“You may be one of many or you may only have one. Where love and commitment are shown. Eternally, I splinter and grow. What am I?”

“A family,” Oswald couldn't resist throwing his arms around Edward's neck and kissing him. This time, with far less hesitation.

Any and all reservations they may have had in regards to their partnership dissolved until they were raw and exposed. The fear and hesitation that's shrouded them ever since that day on the pier no longer matter. All that's left is_ them_ with the knowledge that they can have_ this._ No more betrayals. Just them basking in the sensation of their mutually exposed nerves.

They fall backwards onto the large bed and Oswald is quick to pin the brunette beneath him. Edward tried to speak out against it and prevent Oswald from causing any discomfort to his leg. The Penguin didn't allow for it and instead dug his fingernails into Edward's flank. Causing him to moan and then laugh at his own involuntary sounds.

As they pull away to breathe, Oswald speaks against Ed's lips.

“Are we dead?”

“I don't think so,” Ed chuckled, “Why?”

Oswald pulls away for a moment, his expression serious, “Because I've been given everything I could possibly want... I have a home and a family and I have _you_... I can't help but feel like none of this is real.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Ed... what if we've been given all of this but then it's just going to be ripped away from us? What if this is Hell for us?” Oswald inhaled, suddenly scared, “What if you aren't real?”

Edward pulled his lover closer, “Shhh... I am real. I'm here Oswald.”

“I don't think my heart could take it,” Oswald shook his head, breaking away from another kiss.

“Then we'll suffer together,” Edward held the sides of Oswald's head, forcing their eyes to lock, “If we really did die in that alleyway and _this _is where our souls have been thrown, so be it. So long as we're together... like _this...” _he rocked his hips into Oswald, eliciting a moan from the smaller man, “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

Oswald lost himself into Edward's touch.

“May I make love to you?” Edward breathed his question into Oswald's welcoming mouth.

“_Please,”_ Oswald choked.

The sound of Oswald begging clouded Edward's brain. His mouth dove into Oswald's own and his hands explored his lover's pale skin. Not in the same way he did when he was nursing the Penguin back to health. _This_ mental catalog of details was different. There was heat and an unexpected electricity to each touch. Every tremor and shiver from the smaller man was locked away for Edward's use later.

They undressed each other, agonizingly slow, and then relished the feeling of their bare cocks slotted up against one another.

Edward lathed his tongue over Oswald's clavicle and down his sternum. Oswald was completely lost to the sensation. Edward ventured lower and placed a few love bites along the man's inner thighs. He carefully positioned Oswald's legs over his own shoulders. Once Edward knows that his beloved bird is comfortable, he presses the flat of his tongue against Oswald's perineum.

“_Eddie,”_ he squirmed.

“I've got you, Ozzie,” Edward whispered hotly against Oswald's skin. His tongue trailed up and down Oswald's rosy cock and down to the puckered hole between his cheeks. He slid a finger inside and marveled at how Oswald took him in. Noting the stretch and the blushed skin as he indexed each muscle.

It isn't long before Oswald was prepared and Edward lowered him back onto the bed. A pillow positioned under his hips for comfort. Oswald was panting with the widest of grins across his face. His cheeks would hurt later.

“You're beautiful,” Edward told him.

Oswald rolled his eyes, “Now I _know _you aren't real.”

Edward gently caressed Oswald's cheek with the back of his hand and moved an offending hair from Oswald's face. He didn't feel like spoiling the mood with an argument so instead placed a reverential kiss on all of the places he loves most.

The freckles painting his nose. His rounded ears. The scar on his right eye and shoulder...

They don't speak when Edward presses into him. A worshipful glance shared between them that communicates all that was unspoken. Neither man was able to adequately express their love in words and instead chose to let their actions speak. A smile graced both of their faces as Edward fulfilled his earlier request. Slow and deliberate. Taking in the velvety heat of his lover and savoring every aching moment.

After cleaning themselves and settling into the large bed in Edward's room, they curled up beside one another. Eventually falling asleep to the sound of their synchronized heartbeats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be the end! I miiiiight write an epilogue. I dunno. Depends on interest.


	3. Mutants, Mayhem, and Moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Lovelies! I'm sorry this story has taken so long. My friend who commissioned this story and I talked for a long while and we decided to make it a little longer and incorporate some of our other drunken ideas. To that end, I had to do a LOT of rewrites and editing. And then I got really burned out working on this and my other stories and just kinda... zoned out for a bit and worked on a bunch of one-shots instead. Oops.
> 
> BUT! There are at least 2 extra chapters planned to accommodate for the extra story bits! I also wanted Ed and Os to bond with the kiddos more. I hope you guys enjoy it! Your comments give me life and fuel my motivation to write more!

Edward never needed much sleep. He could go for several days with nothing more than a nap and some caffeine. Which was why he wasn't all that surprised when he woke up curled around Oswald only a few hours later.

His lover's hair tickled his nose and filled his senses with everything that was distinctly _Oswald._ It was an experience that made him feel whole. Complete. Moreso than any other time he and that meddlesome Other had joined into a co-consciousness. He and the Penguin had fallen into one another like they were each other's lifeline. Which, in a sense, _they were_. It would take a cruel act of God to separate them again.

Edward kissed the top of his sleeping bird's head and quietly made his way downstairs. He stopped when he heard someone in the foyer.

“... I'm fine, I guess. It's just... it's been really freaky...” Eugene whispered on the phone, “I can't sleep... Sure! I wouldn't mind the company. The usual place?” he grinned, “Be there in a jiffy!” He closed the phone, put on his leather jacket, and threw a bag over his shoulder.

Edward watched as he skipped out the front door and ran across the yard. Seemingly unaware of the fact that he'd been spotted.

“What are you up to?” Edward smirked and, without a second thought, decided to follow the rebellious teen. After all, what kind of father would he be if he let his son sneak off in the early morning? Especially with the Clown Princes of Crime running around town.

Eugene ducked through alleyways and rode the underground train across Gotham. Edward followed closely behind and did his best to remain hidden- both from his son and from prying eyes that might recognize him. The last thing he wanted was for some rival gang to announce they had seen the Riddler come back from the dead.

Eugene unknowingly leads him to an underpass. The same one with the elevated train where Ed had killed Officer Dougherty decades prior. Though, he isn't certain that his son is aware of that fact.

“Foxy!” Eugene called out. A young man, roughly Eugene's age and with features that undoubtedly resemble Lucius Fox, came around the corner.

_Luke_ Fox, Edward assumes. Gertrude had mentioned him in her retelling of Gotham's history up to that point. He worked closely with his father at Wayne Enterprises and closer still to the Batman and his flock. He's not entirely surprised that Eugene would keep this particular friendship a secret given how much Gertrude loathes that particular group of Gotham's protectors-

Eugene practically knocks Foxy over with an all-too-enthusiastic kiss.

_...Oh._

Well, isn't _that_ interesting. Ed can't help but smile.

“Sorry, I'm late,” Luke pulled away from the kiss with a smile, “I had some last-minute work to finish at the lab.”

“This late at night?”

“You know these are Bruce's normal working hours,” Luke rolled his eyes, “Besides, the work that I do could mean the difference in getting your parents back to their own time.”

“...Yeah,” Eugene worried his lip.

“Though, I suppose I could always sabotage the research,” Luke raised an eyebrow, “Make it so that they can't go back.”

“I appreciate the gesture...” Eugene looked sad, “But that wouldn't be fair,” he sighed and then decided to change the subject. Eugene looked up at the bridge as if he was searching for something. His eyes locked onto a single spot high up on the steel beams, “How high do you think I can climb?”

“_Eugene,”_ Luke scolded.

“What? You'll catch me if I fall, right?” Eugene kissed his boyfriend on the cheek and then made his way up the bridge. He had the dexterity of an alley cat and Ed wondered if he trained alongside Selina Kyle and her daughter, Helena. He at least _hoped_ that he did as the boy climbed higher and higher until he was dangling precariously from one of the beams directly below the rumbling train.

Instant death awaited him below. He swung his bag around and pulled out a can of neon green spray paint. He shook the can and tagged the underside of the train tracks with his name laid out in an intricate scrawling pattern. He added more colors with precise care and consideration for their composition. His hand was steady even though he was hanging upside down with his legs wrapped around a beam and a heavy bag hung about his waist.

Eugene made a show out of getting down. At certain points acting as if he had lost his grip. But Ed could tell that he was in full control of his movements. His boyfriend was less impressed with his antics.

“Don't scare me like that!” Luke punched Eugene in the arm. The brunette just laughed and then pulled him in for another kiss.

“You're going to be the death of me,” Luke sighed.

“Yeah, but isn't that half the fun?” he smiled. He pulled a carton of cigarettes from his coat pocket which Luke was quick to light for him, “So! Where to next!”

Eugene wrapped his arm around his boyfriend as they walked down the sidewalk towards their next destination. Ed shook his head and decided it was about time for him to head back to the manor before the rest of the family awoke that morning.

* * *

Eugene stumbled back home a few hours later.

“Welcome home,” Edward said from the comfort of his chair. A book in hand.

_“Shit._.. uh... don't tell G.” Eugene stammered. His hands flew up in surrender and his bag noisily dropped to the floor.

“I won't,” Ed stood, holding out his hands, “Empty your pockets.”

“What?”

“Your pockets,” Ed raised an eyebrow.

Eugene groaned and rolls his eyes, handing over the package of cigarettes and a green lighter.

“How long have you been smoking?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not really. Because you're stopping now,” he raised a hand when Eugene opened his mouth to protest, “After everything I've learned these last few days, do you honestly think that I am going to sit back and let _you_ die of cancer? I don't think so, buddy.”

Eugene worried his lip, “You should stop Apa before he starts...”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It's... It's bad on his heart,” he kicks at the floor, avoiding his father's gaze. Oswald's death had been recent enough that their children hadn't gotten over their grief.

“Thanks for the heads up.”

Eugene slumped down on the couch by the fire and sulked.

“So... your boyfriend is cute,” Edward smiled.

“You were following me?” Eugene growled.

“Obviously.”

“For how long?” he pouted.

“That is for me to know and for you to speculate,” he winked.

“Wait... You're not mad?”

“Why would I be mad? Aside from smoking, you didn't do anything too outrageous. Though, you should consider a harness if you're going to be climbing any more bridges.”

Eugene snorted, “Catwoman would be pretty disappointed if I fell.”

“Better safe than sorry?”

Eugene sighed, “Yeah... sure. Whatever.”

The morning light was starting to peek in through the windows. The awkward silence was deafening.

“...You're named after me,” Ed chuckled. That fact had taken a while to settle in. The moment he heard his name said aloud, he knew that Oswald had taken it from Ed's middle name.

“Don't remind me,” Eugene mumbled.

“You don't seem to like me much,” Ed stared into his coffee. Elijah seemed more inclined to spend time with him. Eugene was distant. Hesitant to spark any kind of conversation and often defaulted to whatever his twin wanted to say whenever Ed was around.

“Do you have any idea what it's like to be compared to you all the time? But always falling just short... never quite being enough?” he asked.

“Care to elaborate?”

“I'm not as interested in puzzles like Elijah is... so you were always kinda disappointed in me.”

“I find that hard to believe. I can't imagine _not _ being proud of you.”

Eugene raised an eyebrow suspiciously, “Elijah is the smart one.”

“And you're _not_ smart?” Ed chuckled, “Hacking requires skill and problem-solving. Not to mention speed and accuracy. Planning. Resources.”

Eugene smirked, “One time I used my cellphone to remote hack the arcade so I could get enough tickets to win a disco ball.”

“You could have just stolen it.”

“Yeah, but where's the fun in that?” Eugene laughed

“See. Ingenuity and puzzle-solving,” Ed smiled, “You're also an artist.”

“Graffiti doesn't count.”

“It absolutely does! Give yourself more credit,” Ed insisted, “I'd love to see what you could do with a much larger canvas.”

“I guess so,” Eugene scratched at the back of his head, slightly embarrassed.

“And you can cook. That takes a certain level of intelligence to be good at it.”

“You taught me,” Eugene smiled, “You tried teaching Elijah but he was so hung up on how to mathematically determine taste. His food always ended up tasting...”

“Boring?”

“Yeah!”

They laughed. Eugene finally seemed to relax. After a moment, Eugene made a face that resembled one of Oswald's.

Ed snorted, “What?”

“Nothing. You're just... different,” Eugene picked at the flecks of green paint that had splattered on his hands during his dangerous flirtation earlier.

“How so?” Ed asked.

“You were always a bit of a hardass.”

“I was?” Ed laughed. Not quite believing it. He always assumed he would be the fun dad.

“Yeah,” Eugene's tone let Ed know he wasn't kidding.

“Oh,” Edward picked at his cuticles, “Was I-”

“-No,” Eugene interrupted, sensing his dad's anxiety, “You weren't ever mean to us.”

“Good... That's good,” he sighed in relief. The last thing he wanted was to learn that he had turned into his father in his old age.

“You were just protective,” Eugene explained, “Eli and I weren't exactly in the _best_ condition when you found us.”

“Was it anything like what happened to Gertrude?” Ed swallowed, hoping that wasn't the case.

“Not exactly. The lab we were in wasn't abandoned. But we were hooked up to a bunch of machines and treated like lab rats instead of people,” he explained, “Apa told us that we hadn't been breathing when you found us. We spent a lot of our early years in and out of hospitals.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Ed gritted his teeth. He was going to enjoy hanging Strange's entrails from the rafters when he found him.

“It's not like we remember it. We were just babies,” he said, “You were the one who spent the most time with us. Apa kept G distracted through the whole thing. She was pretty traumatized by it,” Eugene sighed, “She would have nightmares about the lab she was left in. Anything involving Strange and his research gave her nightmares. Raiding the military lab we were in kind of triggered a lot of those bad memories.”

“I can see why I was so protective.”

“Yeah. Eli and I don't blame you at all. It was just kind of lame,” Eugene chuckled.

“Well, I'll try and work on not being such a buzzkill,” Ed promised.

“Thanks, I guess,” Eugene chuckled, “I still have to deal with G being a bitch though.”

“She's your older sister. Comes with the territory,” Ed laughed, “What about Martin?”

“He's...” Eugene swirled the words around in his mouth, “He's a lot like Apa.”

“Explosively angry? Kind of a brat?”

“He wa- Well, he's a lot of things. He's kind and smart. Protective and always ten steps ahead of everyone else. He has this way with people that just makes them want to be his friend. Honestly, he's better at keeping the other Rogues in line than Apa or even the Batman. Apa would have been proud to crown him the King of Gotham...” Eugene suddenly looked sad. He shook his head and then smiled, “He is _really_ petty though. Just like Apa.”

“How so?” Ed asked, noting Eugene's words but not quite knowing what to do with them.

“There was this one time we were at the Founder's Dinner and this guy spilled a tray at his feet. Got marinara all over Martin's shoes. So he found out who the guy was and fabricated a story about an affair and ruined his marriage. Just to spite him.”

“Yeah. Sounds like he learned that from Oswald.”

“Eli is the explosively angry one,” Eugene was quick to supply.

“He is? Elijah's seemed pretty mellow thus far,” Ed chuckled.

“Don't let him fool you. He's the brat of the family, for sure.”

“Fuck you, Genie,” Elijah rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he came through the entryway, “If you make me look bad in front of dad, I'll break your nose again.”

“See what I have to deal with?” Eugene gave a fond cackle in his brother's direction. In spite of their brotherly spats, they certainly cared for one another. That much was evident in the way they interacted.

They go about their morning just as they had the day before. Oswald made his way down the stairs for breakfast and his kids all smiled when he made sure to kiss Ed's cheek as he passed by.

Their family breakfast was cut short, however. Helena Wayne and Victor Zsasz arrived bright and early to help them with their plans. The goal for that evening being to apprehend the clowns- dead or alive- before focusing their efforts on getting the two crime lords back to their own time. Preferably in one piece.

With the help of Batman and his crew, they would lure Jeremiah and his brother to the Iceberg Lounge. The multi-story establishment was built like a bunker and could easily be fortified if needed. Knowing the types of enemies they would likely encounter, it seemed the safest option with the lowest possibility for collateral damage.

Helena- _Huntress_, as she was often called- provided them all with Wayne Enterprise quality body armor. It was sleek and easily concealed beneath their clothes. Gertrude didn't bother wearing any, much to her parent's dismay. When asked why she just waved them off and changed the subject.

“We should check in with the twins and make sure they have everything they need for tonight,” Gertrude said, “They'll stay here at home and assist us that way. Should keep them out of the blast radius should things get out of hand.”

Elijah and Eugene's rooms existed on the polar opposite ends of a spectrum. Eugene, much like his dad, thrived in what they lovingly called _'Organized Chaos.'_ Papers and books were haphazardly strewn about. Empty paint cans and dirtied brushes littered the floors. Posters covered the walls along with some newspaper clippings documenting his own escapades evading Uncle Jim and the GCPD. Elijah, on the other hand, was borderline obsessive-compulsive. Every surface was clear of grime and dust. Each shelf was cleanly labeled and meticulously organized. Even his bed was made. Everything was made of crisp, clean edges and monochrome grey. It was hard to gauge his personality just from his room because it was mostly devoid of any real personal touch. The only color existed in the form of a small terrarium experiment next to his bookcase. It was a large glass bottle containing an entire self-contained ecosystem. It was beautiful, but Oswald couldn't help but feel like it looked trapped in its confines.

“Do you think this will work, Apa?” Elijah asked.

“Hm?” Oswald had been too distracted looking at the terrarium and hadn't heard the conversation between the Huntress and his son.

“The plan. Having Genie and I remote hack from our servers here so we can corner the Clowns in the Diamond District.”

Oswald made a vague gesture. Truthfully, if it involved computers, Oswald was at a loss, “I suppose. What do you think?”

Elijah's eyes widened, “Well... um...” He seemed embarrassed not having an answer.

“Are you not confident in the plan?” Oswald asked.

“The plan is foolproof! It was dad's idea, after all,” Elijah replied

“But?” Oswald could sense the hesitancy in his son's voice, “You must have concerns if you are asking me what I think. But, I confess, I am a bit out of my element. Tell me what _you _ think.”

Elijah's eyes flickered over to the terrarium and Oswald noticed his eyes shimmer. As if something shifted in his mind and there was a crack in his shell, _finally_, “I'm worried that the Valeska's have already thought of our plans. What's stopping them from getting away? Or, worse, what if we just end up trapped with them! What if that's their plan?”

“So long as you and Eugene keep the Lounge on lockdown, the only other way out is through the tunnels under the Lounge,” Helena explained, “My men will be down there so they won't be able to escape that way.”

“What makes you so sure they even have a plan?” Oswald asked his son who still remained concerned even after Helena's reassurance.

“Why wouldn't they?” Elijah asked, slightly taken aback, “There has to be some kind of motive.”

“Not necessarily.”

“That's... illogical. And improbable,” Elijah adjusted his glasses

“These men are agents of chaos. I haven't interacted much with Jeremiah, but Jerome...” he shivered, “I have had the unfortunate displeasure of working alongside him. He has no motives outside of his own deranged sense of entertainment.”

“I suppose you're right,” Elijah leaned back in his chair.

“But, you think otherwise?”

Elijah looked up at his father and sighed, “...I guess? Jerome was all about creating chaos, sure. But Jeremiah _always_ had a plan. Even when it didn't look like he did," he shook his head, "But that doesn't matter. You know what's best.”

“Yes,” Oswald took a step closer, “And I what I think is best is for you to follow your instincts. You don't need us to tell you what to do, Elijah.”

“But-”

Oswald held up a hand, “I trust you.”

Elijah stared at his father for a considerably long time before slowly nodding his head. His expression both determined and uncertain.

“Nem fogok csalódni,” Elijah spoke in Oswald's mother's tongue. Expressing his promise not to disappoint his father.

Oswald tilted the boy's chin up towards him and made sure he was looking him in the eye, “You won't.”

“We should get going,” Helena walked toward the door, “Batman and the others will be arriving soon.”

“Yes,” Oswald smiled. He gestured towards Eugene who was now standing in the doorway next to Zsasz, “Don't kill one another while we're gone.”

“Don't worry, Chief,” Victor Zsasz spoke, “I'm staying behind in case anything happens.”

“Thank you, Victor,” Oswald smiled, “I am glad we become friends again.”

Victor scooped the smaller man into a tight hug. Oswald squawked. He wasn't certain if this was new for the both of them or if this level of brotherly camaraderie becomes regular occurrence he gets to look forward to once he's smoothed things over with the Victor of his own time.

“Make sure you bring home that Clown's head for us.”

* * *

Edward and Oswald aren't entirely sure what they were expecting. They certainly weren't expecting Bruce Wayne in a _ridiculous_ suit and cape to come flying in next to a bunch of overgrown children in equally ridiculous outfits.

Dick Grayson is the eldest among the five protégés. _Nightwing_, as he prefers to be called now, is twelve years older than Helena. He was adopted shortly after Bruce Wayne returned to Gotham and donned the moniker _Robin_ when he joined his team. Jason Todd and Tim Drake had also worn the cape alongside Batman but had outgrown the title and moved on to their own identities- _Red Hood_ and _Red Robin_, respectively.

Then there was Damian Wayne. He currently held the title of _Robin_ and Bruce certainly had his hands full. Oswald and Edward didn't know _what_ the story behind the child was and, presently, they have far too much on their plate to bother knowing. However, watching the young teen argue with a full-grown man in Arabic was entertaining.

It seemed the Batman had his work cut out for him.

“Who are you supposed to be?” Robin sneered up at him. He had an accent and slightly darker features than his siblings.

“That's the Penguin,” Bruce explained

“What?!” the boy reeled backwards, “No way! He looks totally different.”

“I doubt I change _that_ much in thirty years,” Oswald rolled his eyes

“You do,” all of the Robin's say in unison.

“Leave him alone,” Bruce grumbles, “Nightwing. Huntress. Secure the perimeter.”

The two pull out guns that contain grappling hooks and make their way to the roof. Edward whistles when he sees how fast they move and is grateful he can consider them allies through all of this. He's also hoping that he doesn't ever have to deal with them as enemies during his _own_ time.

“Your children are charming,” Oswald glared at Bruce. That ridiculous mask did him no favors. This is Gotham. If he wanted to wear leather, he should have just worn leather!

“So are yours,” Bruce's voice sounded odd through the modulator. If Helena hadn't told him who the Batman was, it might have taken him a while to uncover his identity, “It's nice to see you, Penguin.”

“I can't tell if that is sarcasm.”

“It isn't,” Batman took a step closer, “Gotham hasn't been the same since you and the Riddler died.”

Oswald swallowed. That was the first he'd heard of the fate of his beloved.

“Didn't I tell you to sit this one out, Oswald?” the all-too-familiar voice of Commissioner Gordon echoed through the hall. He was marching into the lounge bedecked in SWAT gear along with his own personal army of GCPD nuisances.

“Jim, in all of the years you've known me, when have I ever sat on the sidelines?”

Jim rubbed at his temples and gritted his teeth in response. Beside him was a much older Lucius Fox who was carrying a device that they assumed would be utilized in getting them back home. It was larger than the one they'd seen Jeremiah holding and had more buttons and knobs. Hopefully, that would mean more precise coordinates when the time came.

On the other side of Jim was a young man, roughly Gertrude's age, in a police uniform and similar SWAT armor. Oswald had to take a moment to right himself. The man looked just like the Jim Gordon from his own time. Macho scowl and all.

“Hey,” the younger man spoke in Gertrude's direction. Her lip curled into a disdainful smirk as she crossed her arms over her chest. He cleared his throat and looked down at the floor.

Edward and Oswald both shared a knowing look and tried to stifle their mutual laughter. That would have to be a conversation for another time.

Lucius and Edward left to discuss the plans for time travel. Dick Grayson and Luke Fox had figured out the methods used by the chaotic duo and had engineered their own version with the help of Batman and his resources. According to their research, there was a specific type of energy signal that fueled the device. It was released in small bursts and, unless you had a tracking device, its location was undetectable. There was a short window when it was available however and the alley across the street from the Iceberg Lounge was one such location. Luckily, the Penguin and the Riddler were able to help them narrow down where it was after their arrival.

“So, _Foxy, _you seem to have a happy life after No Man's Land,” Edward said as he assisted Lucius in planting some traps around the lobby.

“I do,” Lucius smiled, “Happily married. Bruce also named me the CEO of Wayne Enterprises.”

“Oooo. Look at you,” Ed laughed, “And do we stay friends?”

“If you want to call it that, sure,” Lucius answered, “At least, once you stop prowling around the streets and settle down with your husband and kids. Fatherhood is a good look on you, Nygma.”

“Same to you,” Ed smiled, “Aaaaand, our sons seem to be rather... _close.”_

“They are,” Lucius raised an eyebrow. It seemed his son's secret paramour wasn't much of a secret, “I didn't know you approved.”

“Why wouldn't I?” Edward was stunned.

“You had hoped to rope Luke into Penguin's employ, but he chose to work for Batman instead. You were always kind of bitter.”

“I can see why I would. The boy is a genius, much like his father,” Edward admitted, “They make a cute couple though. I hope the me from this time didn't interfere with that.”

“Not like it would have mattered. They sneak off when they think we aren't looking,” Lucius chuckled.

With all of the traps set, all that was left was to wait. Which Oswald _loathed_ with every fiber of his being. He hated not being in control. Ever since arriving in this future Gotham, he'd been jerked around in a multitude of directions and wasn't able to get his bearings. He was forced to be a spectator in almost every capacity.

Edward could sense his anxiety and held his hand. They locked eyes and silently promised to make the most out of their time here. They would aid Batman and Jim Gordon, go back to their time, and pursue the life they had witnessed in this future of mutants and mayhem.

Less than an hour later, Robin descended from seemingly nowhere, “Father, I just received word from the Bird's Nest. They say that they can see the Joker and his brother through the GCTV feeds. They're coming this way.”

“How many?” Batman asked

“Their army is small but comprised of mutants.”

“We already know that they have lightning abilities on their side. They may try and disable the Lounge's security systems.”

“Elijah assures me that they have a contingency for that,” Damian says, "But it likely won't last forever. We'll have to work fast."

Oswald smiled. His boys were so smart.

“Good. Alert Nightwing and the others,” Batman turned to the rest of them, “Red Hood, you're with the SWAT crew. _No killing.”_

“No promises,” Jason shrugged.

“Junior, I need you over by Penguin. Keep them out of harm's way,” Jim said.

“We can handle ourselves,” Gertrude sneered but she allowed for Junior to join them and their group.

It's not long before they can hear motorcycles outside and the sounds of fireworks. The Jokers had manipulated all of the gangs in the Narrows into their war against Gotham's order. The two brothers proudly displayed themselves atop their armored vehicles. Jerome was shooting wildly into the air while Jeremiah mockingly skipped his way toward the front door.

A crossbow bolt flew past Jerome as Huntress descended from the rooftop. She landed a kick squarely to his jaw and knocked him from his perch. Nightwing attempted to intercept Jeremiah at the door. However, a speedster plowed through him and toppled the former Robin to the ground. The mutant continued to punch and kick at him faster than Nightwing could even blink. Several men wearing clown masks clamored up the steps and begin attacking Nightwing with metal baseball bats.

“Hello, Bats!” Jeremiah pranced through the front door. His purple coat glimmered under the laser sights.

“It's over, Jeremiah,” Batman stepped forward.

“Oooo... I haven't heard _that_ name in a while,” he batted his lashes, “Do I know you?”

“Jeremiah Valeska, you are under arrest!” Jim Gordon yelled.

“Don't you know it's rude to interrupt someone else's conversation?”

There was a crack of lightning as several mutants clapped their hands and sent a shock through the front door. The entire front line of the SWAT team was sent flying and spasming on the floor. Bullets were flying and pandemonium erupted through the Lounge. Edward and Oswald could barely keep up as they shot through wave after wave of mutants and gang members in clown makeup.

The sound of metal scraping metal filled the room as the reinforced bulkheads came down and seal the two armies inside. Elijah and Eugene were controlling the security system remotely from the mansion and even if the electrified mutant troopers managed to damage the security system, the doors should remain secured and the boys could bring it back online safely from their location. There appeared to be no way in or out of the lobby until the Bird's Nest was given the all-clear.

With the two brothers separated, they each made their move to apprehend Jeremiah. However, he skillfully evaded their capture either by overpowering his assailant or dodging them altogether. He seemed to have some kind of preternatural sense that kept him just out of harm's way. He inched his way closer and closer to where the Batman was fighting off a horde of the Joker's goons when there is a loud crash. Then another. And _another._

“Woo!” One of Jerome's goons screamed as he rammed the armored truck through the bulkhead. A stray bullet ignited the molotov cocktail in his hand. He rushed through the middle of the crowd before falling dead in a burning heap.

Clowns swarmed through the hole in the bulkhead. Jeremiah rolled his eyes at the disordered chaos. With a shrug, he cut his losses and ran towards the exit. He dodged each and every bullet as he weaved through the anarchy.

“Don't let him get away!” Jim called out.

A firing squad lined up to stop him but none of their bullets seemed to reach him.

A helicopter landed a short distance away. The Wayne Enterprises logo was painted over with eyes and a menacing grin.

“Eugene, I need you to hack the copter's guidance system,” Batman spoke into a hidden communicator in his cowl.

However, the sounds of Jeremiah's helicopter continued as he was lifted off and flown away. Leaving only chaos in his wake.

Shortly after, music begins playing through the Lounge.

_My my!_

_At Waterloo Napoleon did surrender._

_Oh yeah!_

“Shit,” Gertrude groaned as she loaded more shells into her shotgun.

“What's wrong?” Oswald fired over his shoulder and then ducked behind the bar

“Waterloo,” Gertrude gestured to the loudspeaker as the ABBA song continues to play. Glass shattered overhead and alcohol spilled out onto the floor. She stood and blasted away the remaining obstacles impeding their path toward the underground tunnels.

“W-what?” Oswald manages to get himself back to his feet and his daughter's side.

“The Battle of Waterloo,” Edward explained, grabbing a firm hold of Oswald's forearm, “Our plans to isolate our enemy have failed and we're surrounded.”

“James!” Gertrude calls out, “Get them back to the Bird's Nest. Tell Uncle Zsasz that-”

A loud crack rips through the air followed by a dull thud as the bullet tore through bone and flesh.

Gertrude collapsed to the ground. A bullet lodged cleanly between her eyes.

Oswald was the first to panic. His screams filled the room as bullets flew in every direction. Ed's legs gave out from under him and he collapsed, too stunned to move. His stomach churned as he watched the color fade from Gertrude's eyes and blood leak from the open wound down her face and onto the marbled floor of the Iceberg Lounge.

Oswald was yelling at him but he couldn't make out the words. All Ed heard was high pitched ringing. Junior lifted him to his feet and, for a moment, he thought he is going to pass out. Oswald steadied him from behind.

Junior looked down at Gertrude's body and his features morphed in an instant. His eyes went red and the veins in his face darkened and pulsed. The telltale signs of the Tetch Virus made it's way to the surface. A man in a clown mask ran towards them with a machete but Junior was quick to grab him and practically tore the man's head off his shoulders.

They looked up to see Jerome Valeska on the upper floor cackling as he made his way down the banister. The barrel of his gun was still smoking. When he made it to the bottom of the stairs, he aimed his gun at Oswald and clicked back the hammer. Edward threw himself in front to shield him just as another gunshot rang out.

“Eddie!” Oswald screams.

Jerome fell to the ground. His own blood darkened the bright red coat he was already wearing.

They both turned and, to their astonishment, Gertrude was standing there. The hole still oozing down her brow. She grit her teeth and strolled past them, “Ow,” she dug her heel into Jerome's bullet wound, “That really fucking hurt!”

“Huntress is luring the rest of the army back toward the Narrows. We'll take it from here,” Batman appeared behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. Begrudgingly, she allowed him to pick the injured Valeska brother up and secure him in cuffs.

“Gertrude!” Junior ran over to her. He placed a reverential hand on her cheek and smiled, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?” she rolled her eyes, but she leaned into the comfort of his touch all the same. She looked up at him and placed a hand on his cheek. Rubbing circles under his eyes with the pads of her thumbs. He sighed as the veins in his face faded away. She seemed to have an effect on him that kept the virus at bay.

As the sounds of gunfire faded off into the distance, she looked over toward her parents. Oswald wiped a tear from his eye and wrapped her in tight a hug. She looked down at Edward who had, once again, slumped to the floor.

She knelt in front of him and kissed his cheek, “I'm alright, Papa. See?” She wiped the blood away from her forehead to reveal not even a scratch. It was like there was never a bullet hole to begin with, “I told you I was very difficult to kill.”

“You're a mutant?” Oswald asked, completely gobsmacked.

“I am. I inherited it from you,” she explained.

“Wha-”

“-Where is he, Jerome?!”

Oswald's inquiry was cut off by someone yelling next to them. They turned to see Jim Gordon hoisting the clown to his feet. His voice echoed through the lobby of the Lounge. Oswald and Ed both sensed that something about this interaction was personal.

“I don't know,” Jerome cackled, “He never let me in on his master plan. I'm just here for the thrill!”

In one swift movement, Gertrude tackled him to the ground. Jim Gordon stumbled backward and watched as she pounded the man's head onto the bloodsoaked floor.

“Tell us where he is, you _freak!” _she landed a punch square to his jaw. A tooth skittered across the floor.

“OoooHAHAHA! Someone's angry,” He spat blood as he laughed in her face.

“THAT BASTARD KILLED MY BROTHER!” she screamed. There was a knife in her hand but the Batman was quick to grab her before she could kill him in her rage. Nightwing and Junior each took her by the shoulders and dragged her back towards her parents.

“You should take her home. Dad and I will take care of everything here.” Junior explained.

The two of them both nodded and had to fight the urge to pull out their own weapons and demand answers of their own. Instead, they breathed and focused their attention on their daughter who was still kicking and screaming on her way to the limo.

* * *

The ride home is quiet, aside from the constant ringing in their ears and the pounding of their heads after enduring that hail of gunfire back at the Lounge. Gertrude was seated between the two of them. Edward held onto her hand like his life depended upon it and Oswald was rubbing soothing circles into her back. Her gaze was distant. Lost.

The two men locked eyes and their mutual hurt is evident. Martin was _dead_ in this horrifying timeline. Killed by that lunatic and their children had been too ashamed or too scared to tell them about it. They had each sacrificed so much. Gertrude, especially. What had she given up in order to maintain order in Gotham?

The lights were still on at the Van Dahl manor. Everything seemed just as peaceful as they'd left it. At least... until they opened the door.

“Fuck you!” Eugene screamed. He was seated on the couch with blood pouring down his face. Anya was trying her best to apply her rudimentary knowledge of first aid.

“It's your fault he got away!” Elijah yelled as Victor Zsasz held him back as best he could.

“I did my best, Eli,” Eugene nearly burst into tears.

“Your best isn't good enough! It's _never_ good enough!” Elijah struggled to get out of Victor's tight grip, “You weren't fast enough! You're too stupid to do _anything_ right.”

A loud slap that echoed through the parlor. Victor let go of the teen and stared at the boy's father- His eyes wide and concerned. Edward's hand stung and there was a distinctive print on the side of Elijah's face. Ed instantly regretted hitting him the moment it happened. He clenched his fist and tried to calm his breathing, “Don't call him stupid.”

“Why is _he_ your favorite all of a sudden?!” Elijah held his face.

Eugene laughed, “Dad never played favorites. He just spent more time with you because you were so pathetic!”

“Take that back!” Eli tries to barrel his way forward but Edward placed a hand on his chest to prevent his advance.

“You can't even think for yourself! All you do is read textbooks and spout off bullshit philosophy thought up by other people. You're such a fucking loser!”

“Shut up!”

“ENOUGH!” Oswald yelled. The room finally quieted but something was wrong.

Oswald gasped and placed a hand over his chest. The twins rushed to his side and helped him to his chair, forgetting their fight altogether in favor of assisting their father.

“Here,” Gertrude rushed back into the room with a glass of water and a small white pill.

“That won't be necessary,” Oswald waved her away.

“You have an atrial septal defect. Take the damn medicine,” she barked, already fed up and emotionally drained from the evening.

“O-oh...” Oswald looked at the pill in the palm of her hand. It's not dissimilar to the heart medication his father had taken, “It's not a mint, is it?”

“No?” she cocked her head to the side.

“I'm joking,” he chuckled and took the pill, “I suppose I'm due for a check-up when I return to my time, aren't I?”

All of his children made the same face. He looked over at Edward who appeared altogether overwhelmed by the situation. His hands were shaking and, upon locking eyes with Oswald, looks like he is about to burst into tears. It's rare that Ed cries and Oswald knows that not much can stop it once he starts.

“Will you excuse us, Victor?” Oswald said.

“Sure thing, Chief. Let me know if you need anything,” Victor nodded before leaving the room. Anya left shortly after with an armful of bloodied rags.

Once they were alone again, Oswald spoke, “Now... I think it is about time you told us the rest of the story.”

Decades prior, a deal had been made between the Penguin and the Batman. So long as the Penguin kept tabs on the Rogue's Gallery and did what he could within his power to dissuade them from causing_ too_ much harm, he was safe from persecution. He and his husband were allowed to remain a necessary evil so that Gotham could run smoothly. Commissioner Gordon had been less inclined to maintain the agreement but did so out of respect and trust for Bruce Wayne. Evidently, he'd even come to finally consider Oswald his friend.

The Penguin had retired and left his empire to both Gertrude and Martin. Gertrude was tasked with maintaining order within the walls of the Iceberg Lounge and Martin took the mantle of the Warden of Gotham. However, less than a year into their careers, the Valeskas arrived.

Jerome and his army of mutants ran through the streets killing and maiming anyone in sight. Entire districts burned and lit up the sky that night in an act that reminded Jim Gordon of when Jerome first swept through the streets of Gotham. While the GCPD and Batman were distracted saving the city, Jeremiah Valeska broke into the Van Dahl manor.

“He targeted me first. Stabbed me right in the heart,” Gertrude stifled a cry, “Martin came at him in order to save me. When my wounds healed... Jeremiah slit Martin's throat. Right in front of us.”

Oswald squeezed her hand, “It wasn't your fault.”

Gertrude made a non-committal noise and then wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“You got really sick,” Eugene told him, “You always had a bad heart, but Martin's death was too much for you.”

“G took on the mantle of Warden after that,” Elijah explained.

“I assumed you would take the throne at that point,” Oswald turned to Gertrude who was still wiping tears off of her face.

“No,” she shook her head, “The other crime families have all come to bend a knee already but I refuse to call myself that.”

“Why is that?”

“I haven't earned it yet,” she sniffled, “I have to avenge Martin first. And Barb.”

“Barb?” Ed repeated the name, “As in Barbara Lee?”

“Yes,” she sighed, “She worked alongside Bruce as Batgirl. Jeremiah showed up at her apartment and shot her. Completely shattered her spine. She's been in a coma ever since. The doctors think she'll recover, but she'll never walk again.”

“You two were close?” Oswald asked

“Best friends,” she smiled, “She was going to be my Maid of Honor at the wedding.”

Oswald's heart sank. He had suspicions after seeing how she and the Commissioner's son interacted, but there was a noticeable lack of a ring on her finger.

“After everything with Martin and you and Barb and then the _constant_ barrage of calls from neighboring crime families... I called off the engagement so I could focus on my responsibilities.”

Oswald opened his mouth but Gertrude was quick to interrupt him.

“I know what you're going to say,” she sulked, “But I can't run toward love right now. I have to take care of what's left of our family and the Underworld. I have to kill the Valeskas. And Hugo Strange is still out there somewhere! I just..._ can't.”_

“I understand,” Oswald gave her a sad smile. He had to fix this. He had no idea how, but he was determined to not allow this kind of future for his children. He looked up at Ed who nodded his head. It seemed they were in agreement.

“We should rest,” Oswald said and then held up a hand when the other members of his family started to protest, “I mean it! We have endured too much this evening. Let us accept our loss and move forward in the morning.”

“Sajnálom, apám,” Elijah barely spoke above a whisper before retreating up the stairs.

“Dammit! Elijah, wait!” Eugene ran after him.

Edward looked over at Oswald who was still seated next to their daughter on the couch.

“Go to them, please? We'll be alright down here.”

Edward sighed and then made his way up the staircase. Eugene was fiddling with the lock on Elijah's door. He managed to unlock it before Edward could reach the end of the hall and closed the door behind him. Edward took a moment to listen to the sounds coming from the room. They were loud and argumentative at first but then softened. Despite their previous fist fight, it seemed that they were now able to set aside their differences and comfort one another. Edward wasn't sure if he should interrupt them. He turned... and found himself face-to-face with the Joker.

Before Ed could even react, Jeremiah pressed a button on a remote. It was the same kind Hugo Strange had used on him after installing the chip in his brain. Edward tried to move, but couldn't. He attempted to speak. To scream. To cry.

He couldn't do anything but stand there and shake. He could barely even breathe.

The Joker pulled out a knife that shimmered in the unforgiving moonlight. He pressed his thumb to the blade to demonstrate it's sharpness and giggled when blood trickled down his hand.

_No_. Edward wanted to scream

“Shh...” The Joker placed a finger against his lips and tiptoes towards Elijah's room.

_No no no no no_

The door opened. Edward can only stand there looking at the light from the stairs and listen. He heard the door close and lock behind him.

“What the fu-” One of his sons start to call out before Ed can hear the distinctive sound of flesh torn open. There was a dull thud as a body fell to the floor.

Another scream is cut short followed by the sounds of a struggle. Jeremiah must have his hand over his mouth. Oswald and Gertrude were completely unawares and Edward was trapped in his own skin. There was another dull thud.

The door opened and the Joker stepped into the light once more. Blood splattered across his face and all over his hands.

“I hope you enjoyed your family reunion.”

Jeremiah pulled out the damnable remote once again and clicked a button on the side.

The lights go out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> "Nem fogok csalódni." means "I won't disappoint."
> 
> “Sajnálom, apám.” means "I'm sorry, dad."
> 
> "Apa" is also Hungarian for "dad" or "father"
> 
> If any of my Hungarian is wrong, let me know so I can fix it!


	4. Legacy

They shared a silence.

Generations of Van Dahl's legacy looked down on them. Forever captured in oil and varnish. The Penguin had kept the tradition of preserving the faces of the Van Dahl and Cobblepot ghosts. Each of his children had their own portraits. Martin's was above the mantle where his father's painting was once hung. If Oswald had been more perceptive, he might have deduced what that had meant.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you before.” Gertrude hung her head in shame.

“I understand why you didn't.” Oswald poured her a glass of whiskey. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. It was difficult to not imagine Martin as he knew him, young and doe-eyed, under the Joker's blade.

He locked eyes with the portrait of his father that had been moved to the other side of the room. Next to it was a portrait of his mother. The image of them next to one another was as heartwarming as it was sad. He wished he could go back even further in time and correct those mistakes. What would his life have been like had he been raised at the mansion instead of crumbling immigrant housing or the cold unforgiving streets of Park Row? He shuddered at the thought. As much as he would have loved his parents to have lived a happy life, he wouldn't trade Edward or the life they were destined to share for the world.

It did make him wonder if his parents were proud of him. His mother assured him that she would love him no matter what, but would she really if she knew what kind of man he was? His father seemed to accept him but only because he appeared to have turned over a new leaf. He had no doubt that his parents would have loved Edward and their children, but would they actually be proud of him and his achievements? The accolades he received as a direct result of his cunning and ruthlessness?

“_Nem fogok csalódni.” _his son had told him earlier that evening. A promise made to his father not to disappoint him. His sons were anything _but_ a disappointment. However, it seemed that they each suffered the same anxiety that Oswald shared about his own parents.

Gertrude stared aimlessly into her tumbler of whiskey. Oswald placed a hand on her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. Comforting his children came naturally to him. That, at the very least, he hoped his parents would be proud of.

“Your fiance has the Tetch Virus.” Oswald attempted to steer the subject away from their heartache.

“He's no longer my fiance.” she corrected

“Be that as it may... I still have my concerns.”

She sighed, taking a drink, “The cure for the virus that Hugo Strange developed had a ninety-five percent success rate... or so they thought. In reality, it was only about _seventy_ percent. There was a study several years ago that showed that, for many of the victims, the cure only removed the symptoms.”

Oswald's eyes widened, “And I take it the virus can be passed on to an offspring?”

“Yes. And it is almost guaranteed if _both_ parents have the virus.” she explained

“I see. And Jim's son is able to cope with having the virus? He's able to win out the war in his mind and fight off the symptoms?” he asked. The image of his daughter soothing the younger Gordon during the firefight flashed in his mind. How often had she been forced to be his anchor? How dangerous had that been?

“The inherited form of the virus behaves differently. The symptoms aren't a constant and can be controlled through medications and sedatives.”

“There's no cure?”

“None that we know of. The virus binds to the host's DNA. Which makes sense. The virus was a mutant gene belonging to Alice Tetch before being developed into a weapon by the Court of Owls.”

“I remember how Jim was when he had the virus.” Oswald shook his head. The memory of Jim murdering Fish still haunted him, “The man was a monster.”

Gertrude flinched at the word and gritted her teeth at the implication, “James would never do anything to hurt me.”

“That may be true, but-”

“-James is stubborn.” she interrupted, “He comes by it honestly having Jim and Leslie for parents. He has his struggles, but the virus has never made him into something he's not.”

Oswald raised his hands in surrender, conceding the point. His parental fear was overriding most of his other feelings on the matter, “Fine. I understand. Who am I to get in the way of love?”

“He and I got close when we were kids. He was my first friend.” she smiled fondly at the childhood memory, “He kept me company after I was rescued from the lab.”

“I'm glad you have genuine feelings for the man, but don't you think it is a little on the nose to marry the Commissioner's son?” her father raised an eyebrow

Gertrude rolled her eyes, “he worked for you in secret.”

“He did?” Oswald's eyes widened. Well, _that_ was certainly a pleasant surprise!

“You helped him cover up a murder he committed when he was a teenager. He's felt indebted to you ever since.”

“What happened?” That paternal fear bubbled back to the surface

“He was... violent as a kid. They didn't know he had the virus at that time and were treating him for everything from schizophrenia to bipolar.” she explained, “There was this girl in his class that kept bullying him, Bess Keller... he didn't even remember killing her. It just happened. He was too afraid to tell his father so he called you. Dad helped dispose of her body and the both of you counseled him through it. You became a sort of mentor figure for him. Taught him how to cope with his demons.”

“So he has secretly been a member of the Rogue's Gallery this whole time? Right under Jim's nose?”

“He has.” she gave a sly smirk

“Well... then I guess I have no choice than to approve of him.” Oswald chuckled, “Do they know if the virus can be passed on to their grandchildren?”

It's not like Oswald would want to force that on his daughter, of course. But having a grandchild was an interesting prospect he'd never considered. He could handle one. Or several... perhaps a dozen.

“It's possible. But it's not like that really concerns me anymore.” her eyes flickered down to the ice in her whiskey glass, “Can we talk about something else other than my failed attempts at a happy life?”

Oswald sighed, “You do realize that you are in no way obligated to continue to run things as you are. I doubt the me from this time would want that for you. Why don't you just give the underworld over to someone else?”

“And allow some ignoramus to destroy everything the two of you built? Absolutely not.” She shook her head, “I have to do this to honor your memory. I _have _to.”

Oswald shook his head. He hated how much pressure he seems to have put on her growing up. He in no way wanted her inheritance to ruin her life. Speaking of inheritance...

“Back at the Lounge, you said that you got your mutation from me.” The words came out slowly as if he were still processing them

“How do you think you survived being shot and thrown in the river?” She chuckled

“I thought... but Ivy...” Oswald stammered

“Poison Ivy pulled you from the river because she was hoping to use you as fertilizer. By the time she got your body to the greenhouse, your wounds had started to heal and you were breathing.”

Oswald's jaw slacked open.

“You had been under that water for several days and within a week of being pulled from the river, you were murdering your lackeys with gardening tools.”

“So I'm... a mutant?” Oswald let the word roll around in his mouth for a moment, “Huh. Well, that explains a few things.”

_More cockroach than Penguin._

“That doesn't mean you get to go back to your time and catch any more bullets.” She glared, “You can still get hurt and your ability to heal vanishes as you get older. Your cells eventually die off faster than they can be reconstructed.”

“I would assume so considering I'm_ dead.”_ He rolled his eyes. Gertrude winced.

There was another silence.

“And Ed?” He tries not to cry, “How did-”

_BANG._

Gertrude sprang to her feet and ran toward the sound of the gunshot, shotgun in hand and Oswald close behind. They reached the foyer and gasped at what they saw.

“Uncle Zsasz?” Gertrude approached the bald assassin bleeding in the doorway. He limped forward and Oswald rushed to his side. Victor threw his arm around Oswald's shoulder and allowed himself to be partially carried into the house.

“Edward!” Oswald called out. Gertrude rushed upstairs to find him.

“What the hell happened? Who did this?” Oswald knocked everything off of the kitchen table and helped prop Victor up so he could better assess the damage to his leg. He'd seen plenty of gunshot wounds in his time but he wasn't as confident in his first aid capability. He needed Edward.

“_Riddler.”_ Zsasz said with a hiss. He pulled out his knife and cut away at the fabric of his pants. Luckily, it seemed that the bullet had missed all major arteries.

“...What?” Oswald's eyes widened, “No. Ed didn't do this. He's upstairs.”

“Something's wrong with him.” Zsasz explained, “He had this weird look on his face and acted like he didn't hear me. When I stopped him to ask what was up, he aimed a gun at my head.”

“I... I don't understand...”

“Whatever is wrong with him, he's fighting it.” Zsasz winced from the pain, “His head is all messed up.”

“Where is he now?” Oswald asked

“He took one of the cars and left in a hurry.”

“Why would he...” Oswald stopped and all of the color drained from his face. He flew up the stairs, completely ignoring the pain in his own leg. He stopped at the top of the banister when he sees Gertrude. She's standing in the hall looking into Elijah's bedroom. Her hand over her mouth and eyes wide.

“Gertrude?” Oswald takes a tentative step closer

She turns and he sees it. The _terror_ on her face. He can already smell the blood.

Oswald runs towards her and instinctively wraps her in his arms. He turns to see the two teens face down on the floor. Eugene's throat has been cut. Elijah seems to have suffered multiple stab wounds to the gut. He's partly on top of his brother with his hand pressed firmly over the gash across Eugene's larynx.

Gertrude falls to the floor and crawls towards her brothers. Oswald doesn't have the heart nor the strength to stop her as he too slides down to the floor. His chest was caving in.

Gertrude rolls Elijah over and screams. There's so much blood. Eugene's eyes are glassy and open in an expression of fear. She strokes the back of her hand against his cheek and gasps when he exhales.

“Oh, _God! _Apa!” Gertrude immediately applies pressure to the gaping wound on his throat, “He's alive! Check Eli!”

He rushes to her side and presses his ear to Elijah's chest. Relief washes over him when he hears the faint heartbeat and the feels the small rise of his chest, “He's breathing!”

“Where's dad?!” She cries as blood seeps between her fingers

“He's...” Oswald stammers and shakes his head, “Victor!”

“Here, Chief-” Zsasz stops in the doorway. He had dragged himself up the stairs and was now staring at the scene unfolding. His eyes darkened with a rage and grief Oswald hadn't seen on him since the death of Carmine.

“Call Jim. NOW!”

* * *

Oswald had never been more grateful to see Jim come to his rescue. The commissioner arrived with Batman and his sons. They beat the ambulance by several minutes and very well may have made the difference in saving the lives of the two teens. This was apparently not a new situation for the Bat and his ilk given the amount of equipment and expertise they had on hand.

Jim is ordering the rest of the police through the home and organizing the search for Joker and Edward. Meanwhile, Junior is cradling Gertrude on the front steps of the mansion. She's covered in blood and sobbing in his arms. They were both trembling in anger. Oswald could see the younger Gordon struggling to compose himself.

“You should stay behind, Penguin.” Batman tells him as they made their way to the ambulance.

“No. I don't care if someone recognizes me! I am going to that hospital and none of you can stop me!” He screamed, “Please, Mister Wayne... If you were in my shoes... if these were _your_ boys!”

Bruce responded with silence. Ever the stoic. He turned to Jason, “Go with them.”

“Righto.” Red Hood followed them into the back of the ambulance.

Luckily, not many people recognized Oswald. Being dead certainly made for an excellent disguise. No one expected to see him walking around Gotham General's emergency room and Intensive Care ward. If the Robin's reaction to seeing him was anything to go by, he looked different from his older counterpart. And, even if they did recognize him, Jason Todd was quick to distract them with threatening glances through his red helmet.

They're waiting in the hall outside the room where the twins are in surgery. They had both lost a substantial amount of blood from their injuries. The doctors were confident they could save Elijah. Eugene's condition, however, was far more critical.

“I can't help but feel like this is all somehow my fault.” Oswald whispers the words to no one in particular.

“This was the Joker's doing.” Red Hood responds anyway

“What makes you so certain?” Oswald's hands were shaking. None of this made sense. What happened? Why had Edward left? If the Joker had been in the mansion, why didn't he call out? Why was he trying to handle this on his own?

“Let's just say... I've been on the receiving end of the Joker's wrath before.” Jason explained

“I see.” Oswald swallowed. It seemed Bruce Wayne _had_ been in his shoes before, “Where is the Joker of this time?”

“Dead.” Jason's tone of voice gave away his smile, “And the punishment fit the crime.”

“Good riddance.” Oswald returned the smile. It seemed this particular partner to the Bat had a different philosophy for ending crime in Gotham. One that rivaled even his own.

“Couldn't agree more.” Jason nodded, “I wouldn't mind getting my hands on him again if I'm honest. But I think I'll leave him to you this time. After everything he's done to your family, I certainly won't stand in your way should you choose to gut the bastard.”

“I don't think anyone could stand in my way if they tried.”

“I believe that.” Jason chuckled

“I should have known that all of this was too good to be true.” Oswald blinked away tears, “Anyone close to me inevitably gets hurt. But I can't help it... I don't want to be alone.”

“You and Bruce are a lot alike.”

“Oh?”

“I resented the hell out of him for recruiting us. He pulled us off of the streets and made soldiers out of us. We got hurt more often than we didn't. He would just tell us to wipe away the dirt and keep fighting.” He scoffed, “I used to think we were just a means to an end for him... but, in reality, he just wanted a family. He wanted to provide a home for orphans like him and give us a second chance at life. He never actually offered a partnership with us. We always left him in a position where he had no choice but to let us join him.”

“No doubt you were each rebellious in your own right. It was likely easier to keep you under a watchful eye if you fought alongside him rather than being left to your own devices.”

“He lit the path for us in the darkness.” Jason said, “You did the same for most of us in the Rogue's Gallery.”

Oswald gave him a look. It seemed he had influenced more than just the Commissioner's son during his reign as King.

“Batman and I don't always see eye-to-eye. But, he's the closest thing I have to a father.” Jason shrugged, “If I went astray, you usually gave me a swift kick in the ass and sent me back to Wayne Manor.”

“As well I should have,” He smirked, “I'm glad I could help you stay out of trouble.”

“Eh... _Mostly.”_

The door at the end of the hall swung open.

“Lucas! We can't be in here.” Lucius Fox followed after his son as he charged through the intensive care unit.

“No! I need to see him!” Luke barrels past them but is stopped by Red Hood. Luke attempted to maneuver around him but is quickly disabled and slammed against the nearest wall.

“Stop!” Oswald calls out, “Let him go.”

Red Hood takes a step back and allows the teenager to swing wildly at the air. He's blinded by frustration and the outpour of tears from his eyes.

“I need... I need to see him. I need to know if he's okay!” He cries.

“Elijah is going to be alright.” Oswald reassured all of them, himself included, “Eugene is...” Oswald swallowed all of his disquieting thoughts. He was too afraid of saying anything aloud. He didn't want to voice that cruel outcome into being. It was too painful to even consider.

At the mention of Eugene's name, Luke bursts into tears. Oswald recognizes a broken heart when he sees it. He wrapped his arms around the boy's quaking shoulders and rubbed comforting circles into his back. He glanced up at Lucius who is barely holding it together himself.

“He's still in surgery.” Oswald tells the sobbing teen, “You are welcome to sit here with us.”

“Thank you.” Luke says, barely audible. He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“If there is anything you need, Penguin, let me know.” Lucius said

“There is something.” Oswald motioned for them to walk further down the hall.

Once they are just out of earshot of Luke and the red-clad bodyguard, Oswald finally gets the nerve to speak to the former forensic expert, “I may be forty years out of time, but am I safe in assuming you and Edward maintain some sort of kinship over the years?”

“Yes.” Lucius answers with a heavy sigh.

“So you would want to ensure his safety, correct?” Oswald tried not to let his panic be too obvious.

“What's going on? Is Nygma alright?”

“I don't know.” Oswald shook his head, “But he's the only one who might know what happened to our sons. But he left the mansion in a hurry and was behaving strangely.”

Lucius nodded in understanding, “Is he the one who shot Victor Zsasz?”

Oswald inhaled deeply, “Yes. B-but Victor said something seemed wrong! Like he wasn't himself and was struggling for control.”

Lucius stood there wide-eyed and Oswald could see the gears turning. He placed a hand on Oswald's shoulder, “I promise I'll get to the bottom of this.”

Hours passed and Elijah's surgery was successful. Gertrude and Junior were there at his bedside while Oswald continued to roam the hall outside where the doctors continued their struggle to keep Eugene tethered to life. It seemed a cruel irony that Oswald would have the ability to heal his own fatal wounds and yet could do nothing but pace while his son held on by a thread.

On his way back from Elijah's room, he spots a familiar face through a crack in one of the doors. He opens it a hair wider and finds Jim Gordon, looking much older than he should, crying at the bedside of a young girl.

Jim looks up.

“Apologies. I should have knocked.”

“It's alright.” Jim sniffled

“She looks just like her mother.” Oswald said, gesturing to the redhead asleep in the bed. She looked far too young to have had her life stolen away by that damnable clown.

“Yeah, and she's a pain in the neck just like her mother.” Jim chuckled.

“May I?” Oswald gestured to the chair beside him.

“Sure.” Jim shrugged.

Oswald and Jim sat there listening to the girl's heart monitor beep at a steady rhythm. It was almost enough to lull Oswald to sleep in his exhausted state. But the fear of losing his son while he rested weighed heavily on his conscience and prevented his eyes from closing fully.

“I'm glad we are able to finally set aside our differences for the sake of our children.” Oswald finally speaks.

Jim sighs, “Yeah. They didn't exactly give us a choice.”

“Gertrude tells me that you tried to keep her from me.” He chuckled, “But Ed and I brought her home in spite of your valiant efforts to spirit her away from Gotham”

“She was a good kid. We were only trying to do what was best for her.”

“You give Edward and I far too little credit. She's _still_ a good kid.” Oswald rolled his eyes. He might have put too much on her shoulders, but he didn't think he nor had Edward done too terrible of a job raising her given the kind of person she was.

“She is.” Jim nods, “I would have been happy to consider her family.”

“Even if Edward and I came attached?”

“Yeah. Even then.” Jim groaned. The two criminals may have been a constant pain in his side but they were a far cry away from the rest of the Rogue's that roamed Gotham City. 

“It's odd seeing her like this...” Oswald confessed, “It wasn't that long ago for me that she was all bundled up at that barricade.”

“I remember the look on your face when Barbara handed her to you.” Jim laughed at the memory.

“I remember the look on _your_ face, too. I was fairly certain you were going to shoot me when I asked if I could hold her.”

“I considered it.” Jim grinned, “I honestly thought you were going to run off with her.”

“She _was_ pretty cute.” He chuckled and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, “That was the moment that really cemented my desire to be a parent. I wanted to adopt Martin the moment I met him. After everything with Sofia and Victor... I was too afraid. I couldn't have him with me or he would only get hurt. But, if we were able to keep that baby safe during the fight at the barricade, anything was possible.”

“Jeremiah seems hellbent on proving to all of us that we can't protect the ones we love.” He tucked some of Barb's hair behind her ears.

“Then it is our job to prove him wrong.” He gave his old friend a sad smile, a determined gleam in his eyes, “Wouldn't you agree?”

* * *

Elijah is finally released from the hospital days later. He nearly has to be readmitted when he tears his stitches open while trying to haul around computer equipment in his attempt to track down the remaining Valeska. The only thing preventing him from injuring himself further is Oswald's constant scolding. Although, the Penguin is not better off.

Oswald has pursued nothing else since the night of the shootout at the Lounge. At this point, he was resigned to never make it back home. The Batman made it quite clear that they were on borrowed time. If their window of opportunity vanished, they would not be able to use the device to travel back. But Oswald refused to suffer the loss and travel back alone without Edward or the catharsis that murdering that clown would bring him.

No one had seen Edward since he fled the mansion that night. Oswald feared the worst. Elijah, despite his father's best efforts to make him rest, refused to sleep. Day in and day out he would scan the GCTV feeds. Reluctantly, he allowed Damian Wayne to take on some of the load. The boy was equally skilled in hacking and had offered to be an extra pair of eyes for them. The other Robins and Huntress trawled the streets in the hopes of finding him.

The only place they hadn't been able to get a firm grasp on was The Narrows.

Lee had long since abandoned her role as Queen of the Narrows and she was forced out of her clinic when the Clowns arrived. The bridge connecting the southern island to the rest of Gotham was almost always on fire. Cars were piled alongside other debris. Anyone who tried to cross often ended up shot and thrown into the water. The residents were either killed or forced to join the Valeskas and their carnival of chaos.

There is a knock at the door.

Anya escorted Lucius Fox into the mansion just as Oswald was preparing to make his daily visit to Gotham General. He and Oswald lock eyes.

“You've found him.” Oswald says. It's not a question. He already knows just based on the look Fox is giving him.

Lucius slowly nods his head, “Come with me.”

"Where are we going?"

"The Batcave." Lucius tells him. As if that was a perfectly normal thing to say.

* * *

It's a good thing Oswald isn't scared of bats.

The cave itself is a series of tunnels that all lead to one central room. Stelagtites dangle overhead as bats cling to them by the hundreds. There is a platform where they are all standing next to a series of monitors and a large computer. The technology of such is unlike anything Oswald has ever seen. The Batcave seems to be run on some sort of remote power. He recognizes one of Jeremiah Valeska's generators, heavily modified, on either side of the platform. He, his children, and Lucius are greeted by the Batman. He's still in that ridiculous armor but at least he's removed the cowl. He nods his head and then joins his son at the computer.

“Hey, Pengy.” A woman clad in black leather and sharpened claws slinks around the corner. Her kitten-like heels clicked along the stone floor of the cave.

“Selina. A pleasure to finally see you.” Oswald grins. She seems to have taken Barbara Kean's advice to heart.

“How are you holding up?” She asked as she leaned against the desk housing the massive computer where Damian was working.

“I'll be better once I know Ed is safe.” Oswald leaned on his umbrella. He'd been grateful that Gertrude had given it to him. It seemed his counterpart favored them over using a cane.

“Helena and I were able to sneak into the Narrows. I know those streets like the back of my paw, so it was easy.” She said

“Did you find him? I-is he alright?”

“Relax. He's alive.” She assured him

“The Joker disabled all of the surveillance in the Narrows once they took over the territory.” Bruce explained, “Selina was able to repair a few of the cameras in key areas. That's how we found Riddler.”

On the screen was a blurred, black and wide feed. The camera was facing an underpass leading towards an abandoned warehouse lot. Clear as day, Oswald could see Edward's face. But he wasn't alone.

“Hugo Strange.” Gertrude gasped

“I don't understand.” Oswald stared at the screen. What he sees is unmistakable. Hugo Strange is barking orders and Edward is following them unquestioning. But his movements are all wrong. The way he stands. The way he walks. The way he nods his head in eager compliance, “Why is he doing this?”

Lucius sighs, “He's accessed the other chip.”

“FFFFfffuck!” Gertrude's scream echoed off of the cave walls.

“What do you mean _other_ chip?” Oswald seethed

“We discovered it when he started getting his brain scans early on in his diagnosis.” Lucius explained

“Diagnosis?” Oswald swallowed, “What are you talking about?”

“He didn't tell you?”

“Obviously not!” Oswald yelled

“Apa, your blood pressure...” Elijah scolded. Oswald breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth.

“Would _someone_ kindly fill me in?” He tried not to be annoyed by his son's coddling.

“Dad died of brain cancer three years ago.” Gertrude explained

“And Ed knew?”

“I told him.” Gertrude sighed, “I also told him not to be stubborn and to get routine check-ups once you got home.”

Oswald rubbed at his temples, “I didn't see Ed during that time in No Man's Land. How did he deal with the chip then?”

“The first chip could be shorted out with an electrical shock. The second one is smaller and more resistant to shocks. Hence why it still worked.” Lucius explained

“So, he's being mind-controlled?” He asked, staring at Edward's face on the screen. He looks angry. Like he knows he's under control and yet can do nothing to stop it. That detail alone makes Oswald's blood boil. He's been paraded around like a puppet for _days_ with no contact with his family. He doesn't even know that his sons are still alive!

“Don't worry, Pengy. We'll bring your beanstalk back home to you.” Selina's tone was determined sounding. She seemed a lot like the version of her that he more readily recognized.

Oswald felt overwhelmed. The umbrella could barely hold his weight, “All of this is my fault...”

“What do you mean?” Batman asked

“Everything from Haven to now... This is my doing.” He shook and cried, “I wanted to save him. He was dead and I was selfish and wanted to _save him_ no matter the cost. If I had just been more careful and monitored Strange's progress, none of this would have happened.”

“You shouldn't blame yourself.”

“He's right, Apa. It's our fault for forgetting about the chip.” Gertrude placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“But I'm the reason it's there in the first place.” He shook the memory of Edward, trembling and waving a gun in his face, from his mind. The man he loved most in this world had felt so betrayed and confused. He'd assumed Oswald had been the one behind his blackouts and the explosion at Haven that killed all of those innocent people. Oswald had never quite been able to scrub the guilt clean from either of their insides.

“Blaming yourself keeps us from moving forward.” Bruce looked sad. He knew a thing or two about blame.

“Bruce is right. We need to focus on saving dad.” Elijah clenched his fists

“Nightwing and Red Robin are in the Narrows searching near the warehouses. Huntress has been helping me patrol the area around the bridges. Red Hood is at Gotham General watching over Elijah and your family in case Jeremiah returns.” Batman explained

“What about Jerome?” Oswald spat the name

“Jerome Valeska is in GCPD custody. It's not likely that he'll give us much information on his brother or their operation.”

“I could take a crack at him.” Oswald smirked. He'd been wanting to take a bat to that man's face since Arkham.

“That won't be necessary.” Lucius interjected, “Let Gordon handle it.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” Oswald threw his arms in the air, “I can't just _sit here_ and do _nothing_ while Edward is out there doing God knows what and my son wastes away in the hospital!”

“Once we've located the Riddler you'll be the first person we call.” Batman stepped forward, “He's fighting Strange's mind-control. That means there is a good possibility you can get through to him long enough for us to disable the chip.”

Oswald bit the insides of his cheeks and shook his head. He looked over at Selina who seemed equally frustrated. She could barely maintain eye contact.

“_Fine.”_ He spat, “But mark my words... if _anything_ happens to him, this City will feel my wrath. I promise you that.” He motioned for Gertrude and Elijah to follow him back out the cave and toward the limo that awaited them.

Once outside, Oswald felt eyes on him. He turned and found Catwoman making her way down the side of a wall and toward the driveway of the manor. She never was one to use the front door.

“What do you want?” Oswald growled

“Bruce is dealing with this the best way he knows how. But he's making zero progress.” She hissed, “I'm not saying we storm the Narrows guns blazing, but I can get us on the inside. You have allies.”

Oswald's gaze narrowed. The thought hadn't occurred to him since Gertrude had been so insistent that he keep his head down.

“I will consider your offer.”

* * *

Edward is alarmingly aware of the mud caked on his shoes.

The Narrows hasn't changed much in forty years. Which is to be expected given the low-income average and the air of apathy City officials have about the district. He approaches the warehouse and snarls when he sees the small, Asian professor. He's wearing a pair of circular glasses that are annoyingly reflective.

“Good afternoon, Mister Nygma.” His voice makes him seem even more snakelike, “Did you deliver our package?”

“Yes.” Edward responds involuntarily. It barely even sounds like his voice. He bites his tongue until he tastes copper.

“Here is another.” He hands Edward another suitcase. The last one had been filled with C4 and detonators. This one looks to be about the same, “The bridge, if you would be so kind. The Joker wants to make sure the bombs are in place in case the Batman or any of your allies should choose to cross it.”

Edward takes it. However, there was the smallest of hesitations. Edward can feel his muscles twitch.

“Ah.” The Professor's eyes light up. He takes a step forward, “You are still in there.”

Edward's nostril's flared. He willed his fingers to clench around the scientist's throat but his limbs never moved. He could see his reflection in Strange's glasses. He looked tired. Angry. Had he eaten anything? Or slept? He couldn't remember. He wanted to poke the scientist's eyeballs out and feed them to the birds. If he could just get to the remote...

“Well have to fix that now won't we.” He smiled that cruel sort of smile. Overly sweet and condescending, “It should be a relatively quick procedure. Though, I'm afraid it won't be painless.”

Edward wants to scream.

“We don't have time for that now, unfortunately.” He pats Edward on the cheek, “The bridge.”

“Yes, Professor.” Edward spins on his heels and made his way toward the bridge. He looks down and sees the mud on his shoes and the footprints left on the pavement. He spits blood out of his mouth and manages to smirk when he steps in it and starts leaving a trail behind him.

* * *

Oswald is exhausted. He can barely keep his eyes open as he sits there by his son's bedside. He's attached to various tubes and loud machines. He's not able to breathe on his own just yet.

“I didn't even get to say I was sorry for calling him stupid...” Elijah whispers. He clenched his fist into the thin blanket draped over his brother, “I don't want that to be the last thing I said to him.”

“We mustn't think like that.” Oswald admonishes, “He'll recover. It's just a slow process.”

Oswald limps over to the other chair and sits down next to him. Elijah looks so much like Ed it almost startles him. The only real difference is the slight point to his nose and the lack of curl to his hair. It was brown and unruly like Ed's but feathery like Oswald's.

“You saved his life, you know.”

“I did?” Elijah looked up. His eyes were red and swollen.

“When Gertrude and I found you... you had your hand over his throat. You had used the last of your strength to apply pressure to the wound. The doctors said that your actions may have been what kept him from bleeding out too quickly.”

“I'm glad I could at least do something right for once.” He mumbled.

Oswald hung his mouth open. What was he talking about?

“Eugene was always the smart one.” Elijah says

“You're both smart.” Oswald scolds, placing a hand on his son's shoulder

Elijah shook his head, “No. Eugene was...” He sobbed, “He could adapt to anything! He didn't need anyone to tell him how to do something. He could just unwrap a problem and was immediately good at it! I would spend hours just practicing one thing over and over. Dissecting it and putting it back together and I _still_ couldn't figure it out. Not perfectly.”

“Perfection is _not_ a requirement.”

“My parents were the Penguin and the Riddler! Of course I had to be perfect!” Elijah yelled, “Anything less and I was a disappointment.”

“Stop this!” Oswald held his son's face in his hands, “Who put these ideas in your head?”

“No one... It's just...” He choked on the words, “I wanted to impress you. I wanted to be worthy of your legacy.”

“You don't have to impress me. The fact that you exist at all is a gift.” Oswald cried, “Screw my legacy as the King of Gotham. _You_ are what is important. Nothing else.”

“You don't mean that.”

“I do.” Oswald looked his son in the eye, “I promise we will bring them both home.”

“That sounds nice.” Elijah wiped his nose on his sleeve, “But then you're going to leave us again.”

Oswald sighed. He wanted to stay with his family more than anything. But he also wanted to go back in his time and use the opportunity to create an even better life for them. However, he needed to rescue Edward first.

“Tell me... Is there some song you all use to summon the Rogue's Gallery?”

Elijah blinked and stared at his father. A smile crept on his face, “How does _Breaking the Law_ sound?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is ACTUALLY the end. I hope you all have enjoyed the ride thus far!


	5. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally at the end of this bizzare little romp... _kinda._
> 
> I'm sorry it took me so long to finish it. Between irl events and writer's block I really struggled to finish this story. I hope it is still a satisfying conclusion despite the wait and, as penance for it taking me so long, I have already written most of the sequel that takes place after this one. I'll be publishing the first chapter shortly after this one goes live (I just have a few edits I want to comb through)! I also have a bunch of one-shots sitting in the wings for all of you that I will be posting this month (some of us in the Discord have some surprises for y'all oh booooy).
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me even though I'm a walking disaster!
> 
> Also, Kayla... wtf? This was the weirdest hangover of my life.

Jim stared into the reflective surface of his coffee. He barely recognized the old man staring back at him. They'd been standing idly by during the interrogation for over an hour. The details of said _“interrogation”_ were such that Jim was forced to turn a blind eye-- something he had done a _lot_ of over the years.

“You sure about this, Harv?” he asked.

“We've had Valeska for days and no one's gotten anything out of 'em,” the police captain explained, “If anyone can get the information we need it's Gertrude Cobblepot.”

“She might kill him,” he scrunched his nose as he watched the scene unfold through the window overlooking the interrogation room.

“Would that be so bad?” Harvey drank from his flask that seemed to have a bottomless supply of cheap whiskey whenever the occasion called for it.

Jim made a face but he didn't say anything.

“Come on, Jim. You remember what it was like having them runnin' around. How scared everyone was. She'd be doin' us a public service.”

“It's our job to uphold the law, Harvey.”

“Yeah, you're right,” Harvey scoffed, “Should we also raid Wayne Manor and bring that whole family in too?”

“_Harvey.”_

“Oh, I forgot. The law only applies when it's convenient for us.”

“We do what we have to.”

“We've all been walking that line, Jim,” Harvey nodded his head, “You know as well as I do that sometimes the law doesn't take into consideration killer clowns and superpowers.”

“No, it really doesn't,” Jim sighed into his coffee.

“What happens after we catch the bastard? You told me that Luke and the others said that they could only send two of 'em back.”

“If I know Oswald, he's going to want to go back to his own time and pick up where he left off. He'll use the information he's gathered here to reinforce his empire.”

“You're really gonna give those two bozos the choice?”

“It's the right thing to do,” Jim grit his teeth.

“Why am I not surprised?” Harvey shook his head, “Jimbo, we've already dealt with the clowns once before. They're not our problem anymore.”

“The Arkham of this time is built to contain them. We also have Batman and the others. They don't. Not yet,” Jim sighed, “And it wouldn't be fair to Oswald.”

Harvey rolled his eyes, “To think that all this time I thought you were bluffin' about being his friend.”

“I was his Best Man...”

“Yeah, because he kidnapped you!” he sputtered over the lip of his flask.

“It wasn't so bad,” Jim made a face, “And I seem to recall a certain someone who enjoyed the free bar.”

The two men shared a laugh at the memory.

Their lighthearted chuckle blended with the maniacal cackling inside the interrogation room...

Jerome's nose was bloodied. Gertrude flexed her hand as the muscles and tendons buckled and the fractures in her knuckles reformed. It hurt, but the pain was worth not having to hold back.

“You'll have to give him up eventually,” she said as she watched the bruises fade away.

“That's a neat party trick,” he said, pointing at her hand, “Oh! Show me again. This time try the other cheek. I like to keep 'em even.”

Gertrude glared and crossed her arms.

“Aww... and here I thought we had somethin',” he frowned.

“You're not as smart as your brother.”

“He may be a fancy engineer with his little puzzles and mazes, but he lacks street smarts,” he tapped his temple for emphasis, “Speaking of puzzles, how's daddio doing?”

“You tell me,” her nostrils flared.

Jerome readjusted in his chair. The shackles clanged against the steel table. Blood trailed down his mouth as he smiled wickedly. Gertrude suppressed her shiver but managed to remain stone-faced.

“My old man was a fraud. Spent his life swindling grieving mothers who thought they were connected to their children in some imaginary afterlife. Then spent that money on alcohol while he watched me get beaten and tormented my entire childhood,” he laughed, “He never had a single accurate prediction in his sad, pathetic life. All but one, of course.”

Gertrude tilted her head, curious to know where the clown was heading in his explanation and how it connected to the broader plan they had for Gotham.

“He said that my particular brand of craziness was going to spread through this city like a _virus._ So, I knew that even if I kicked the bucket, someone just as crazy would pick up the torch,” he cackled, “And what a _legacy!”_  
  
“Seems your old man was wrong again. All it took was your brother messing with the wrong family,” she leaned in and smiled at the memory of the Joker's mangled corpse and Jason Todd holding a bloodied crowbar, “Your brother has been dead for _years_ and no one's bothered taking up the mantle.”

“Are you so sure about that?” he smiled, “All it takes is one bad day and a little _push.”_

“Is that the plan, then?” she asked, “Get the people riled up so that someone finally takes your place? If that's the case then why is Hugo Strange involved? Time travel seems like an unnecessary complication.”

“I don't care about any of that,” he grumbled, “That's all broski's plan.”

“Is he the reason you're alive?” she asked.

“I don't tend to dwell on the details,” he shrugged, “I'm more a play-it-by-ear kinda guy.”

“I thought you two hated each other. Why team up now?”

“Hate is such a strong word.”

“All the stories I heard were of him living underground because he was afraid of you.”

“Let's just say that my brother and I have come to an understanding,” he snorted, “Which is pretty funny when you think about it.”

“What's funny is the fact that you're just following along with Jeremiah's plan,” she scrunched her nose, “Never pegged you for the follower type after that mess with Galavan.”

“What's the secret to good comedy, Ms. Gertrude?” he grinned, _“Timing.”_

“You're just playing along until your brother's guard is down,” she narrowed her gaze.

“Maybe,” he eagerly drummed at the table.

“And he knows that which is why he hasn't told you a damn thing.”

“I'm surprised it's taken you this long to figure that out,” he rested his chin on his fist, “I am curious though, what's it like fulfilling the legacy of a couple 'a dead loons? Or are you following the path designed for you by the good ol' professor?”

“Hugo Strange has no power over me,” she said.

He turned and looked around the interrogation room, “We're the only ones here? No point in lying.”

“Hugo Strange has no power over me,” she repeated. Her hands trembled under the table.

“You've got that mantra down pat,” he laughed, “Listen, kid, I know what that kind of torture does to a person. And being left alone to starve inside a cage while all those other kids died around you-”

“-Is there a reason for this conversation or are you just inviting me to spill your guts all over the floor?”

“Oooh, kinky,” he chuckled, “Just like Mr. Oswald.”

“_Shut up,”_ she snarled.

“I always did wonder... ya know, if he was ever lonely enough,” he winked, “I'm not the tall riddle type, but beggars can't be choosers in the looney bin--”

She slammed his face into the table, firmly cracking his nose at an odd angle.

“Growing up, I heard stories about you,” she shook her head, “How disappointing.”

She turned toward the one-way mirror and shrugged. The door opened, revealing Captain Bullock and Commissioner Gordon. They exchanged a look.

“He's a distraction,” she told them, “We should be focusing in infiltrating the Narrows rather than wasting our time with him.”

“You're still following that path, ya know,” Jerome called out, “Remember, that all it takes is _one bad day.”_

She resisted the urge to turn around and instead repeated her mantra quietly to herself all the way home.

* * *

Gertrude took in the sight of the Iceberg Lounge. Her parents had thought ahead long ago and installed bulletproof glass partitions throughout the club. Save for a few cracks and scuff marks, the untrained eye would never know that there had been a battle. She'd already scheduled the repairs for the breached bulkhead. It took some convincing, but Bruce had eventually been persuaded to provide Wayne Tech resources. Hopefully, it would take more than an armored truck to break through should they ever need to use it again. And, given how often Bruce and Commissioner Gordon used the Iceberg Lounge as a central base in times of peril, that made such an installation all the more important.

She took an umbrella from behind the bar and clicked the button on the handle-- a clever little invention courtesy of the Riddler. A paracentric key popped out of the carbon steel tip. She inserted it into the hidden slot near the row of private booths. The wall slid apart to reveal one of the Lounge's many conference rooms.

Normally when the Rogues gathered there was loud music, excessive drinking, and more than one weapon brandished. Instead, the room was eerily reverent. The Mad Hatter and Scarecrow nodded in her direction as she entered. Firefly and Mr. Freeze had set aside their differences for the sake of the Family. Even Two-Face, who had developed a rivalry with the Penguin, was there sipping whiskey at the bar with the rest of Gotham's villainous disenfranchised.

Victor Zsasz, Huntress, and Junior were standing near a darkly lit booth. Seated at the head of the table was the Penguin. She sucked in a breath at the sight of him. He looked more like the man she'd recently buried-- a suit in deep purple with shining silver pinstripes, top hat, and polished ebony cigarette holder. He was a decade younger than the man who would finally take Gotham's Underworld under his wing, but he had fallen into the role easily once the call was made. All of the Rogues recognized him as the man they would eventually all claim as family and vowed to aid him in this perilous endeavor.

“Jerome Valeska was a distraction,” she placed a cigarette between her lips. Junior was quick to light it for her, “Hugo Strange and Jeremiah never let him in on their plan.”

Her father laughed at that.

“What's so funny?”

“It's just nice to see the bastard get a taste of his own medicine,” he wiped a jovial tear from his eye.

“Well, we're back to square one,” she groaned, too frustrated to share his amusement.

“We would be if that clown had been our only source of intel,” the Penguin exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“Nightwing and I followed a trail through the Narrows,” Huntress explained, “It went cold after a few blocks, but we were able to trace the starting point near the western warehouses.”

“We'll be going in blind,” Gertrude massaged her temple, “We still don't know what they have planned.”

Junior and Huntress exchanged a look.

“What?” Gertrude raised an eyebrow, bracing herself for the worst.

“They found another lab,” Junior frowned, “Luckily this one was smaller than the others. It looks like he was just mass-producing mutagen.”

Gertrude exhaled with a hiss, “I guess that explains where they got their army.”

“Mom was struggling a while back with some of the less fortunate down in the Narrows and it looks like Strange managed to sink his teeth into them.”

“Promised them a new life in exchange for them becoming _lab rats,” _she shook her head, “Jerome did imply that they were trying to incite chaos. Maybe even find someone willing to pick up where the Joker of this time left off.”

“Why would Hugo Strange want to be involved in that?” Huntress asked.

“No clue,” she answered, “But he's probably the one who gave them the technology to come to this time in the first place.”

“Which means he must have actively reached out to them from this time,” the Penguin furrowed his brow.

“Do you think it has to do with Project Leviathan?” Junior leaned in to make sure that only their small group could hear.

Gertrude winced at the mention of the experiment, “If so, I'm not sure how or why.”

The wall slid apart as two new figures stepped into the hidden VIP room. Everyone stopped and nodded their heads.

“How are you feeling?” Oswald asked.

“Peachy,” Eugene's voice was still hoarse, but he was expected to recover. He didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around his father and hug him.

“And you?” he looked over to Elijah.

“I'm fine,” his son replied, stoically.

Oswald sighed. He was familiar enough with Edward's non-committal phrases that he could recognize them in their children as well. Now wasn't the time to call him on it, though. He would have to wait until they had an opportunity alone so he could check in on his son's mental well-being.

“Any news on where dad is?” Eugene asked.

“Jerome Valeska was a dead end. Huntress says they found a trail near some warehouses in the Narrows. Seems like a good starting point,” Gertrude told him and then turned to the assassins, “We're going to send a group down in the sewer tunnels to block off any exists. Huntress, you should take a small scouting party to infiltrate the Narrows.”

The Penguin perked up at how his daughter seemed to take over the duties of planning this particular invasion.

“Unless, of course, you have a different plan?” she attempted to defer back to her father.

“No. That seems as good a plan as any,” he smiled, “This is your empire, after all. You know best how she functions.”

Gertrude shifted on the balls of her feet but decided to say nothing to the contrary. If her father felt she was worthy of it, then perhaps she was.

“I would like to take the rest of the Rogues across the bridge in a show of force,” the Penguin announced, “I'm tired of hiding my face in safe rooms and underground bunkers.”

“But isn't their army bigger than ours?” Elijah asked.

“Yes, but they're uncoordinated,” his father interjected, “They have quantity, but we have quality.”

The Rogues all held up their glasses and cheered.

“Don't you think that's reckless?” Elijah frowned.

“Perhaps, but we're running out of time and options,” the Penguin placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

Elijah sighed, “How can we help?”

Junior stepped forward, “We have to re-establish a connection with the GCTV feeds. We'll need someone stationed at the Bird's Nest to bring them back online and one person with Huntress and her team manually connecting the cameras that were damaged by the Joker.”

“Eugene and I know that system inside and out. It'll take forever to manually connect all of the cameras, unless...”

“Unless we split up,” Eugene interjected, “I trained with Catwoman so I can handle crawling through the Narrows. You can stay at the Bird's Nest.”

“We've never worked apart before,” Elijah swallowed, not at all liking the sound of their plan.

“All I ever do is slow you down,” Eugene shrugged, “I can be more useful this way.”

“But you _just _got out of the hospital!” Elijah flailed in a gesture not that dissimilar from one his father might have made.

“Relax. I'll be fine. It's not like I'll be alone.”

“Apa, can't you just--”

Oswald held up his hand, “Are you sure about this, Eugene?”

“Yes. I'm better at the hands-on stuff. I can reconnect those cameras in my sleep,” his shoulders slumped when their expressions continued to broadcast their concern, “Please? I need you two to trust me.”

“Fine...” Elijah chewed on his lip, “When do we start?”

* * *

The scouting party left the night before the battle. They infiltrated the Narrows through the underground tunnels and then across the rooftops leading towards the Hugo Strange's abandoned laboratory. Eugene had managed to connect most of the cameras along the way, but they still hadn't seen any signs of the Riddler, Strange, or the Joker and his army.

The Code of the Narrows kept most of the remaining Gothamites indoors and out of sight. Even if they _had_ seen something suspicious, they weren't going to tell anyone. Not to mention the fact that the simple act of venturing outside was a death sentence.

>>> _Genie: any sign of dad on the feeds?_

_Eli is typing..._

Eugene took a moment to stretch. Huntress and Catwoman had decided to split up to cover more ground. He'd been climbing most of the night and was starting to feel the effects of it in his joints and strained muscles. Maybe it hadn't been the best idea to go on this mission so soon after getting released from the hospital. Especially since he couldn't risk taking any of his pain medication and lose his balance or dexterity. But, he knew this was the best option for them. He could handle it. His family had stared down worse.

>>> _Eli: Not yet. Some of the cameras still have their night-vision disabled._

Eugene frowned. He only had enough spare parts to repair some of the minor damages to the cameras. Unfortunately, most of the additional mechanisms and sensors were still broken. They would function properly once the sun was out, but the dingy streets and alleyways of the Narrows would remain mostly in blackness until then.

>>> _Genie: how are things at the bn?_

>>> _Eli: Fine. Uncle Zsasz is on patrol. I'm worried about Apa's stress levels :(_

>>> _Genie: yeh... :/_

It really shouldn't surprise him how high-strung their father was. The last several weeks had been more than a little stressful for the Penguin out of time. Eugene felt a twinge in his throat as he typed out his next message.

>>> _Genie: what about you? you ok?_

>>> _Eli: I'm fine. Focus._

Eugene rolled his eyes. He and his brother hadn't discussed the night of the attack or even what happened while he was in his coma. The whole night had been a blur. He barely remembered the details from the battle. He could sense his overwhelming guilt prickling at the back of his mind, but he was still hazy on the details. He knew he'd screwed up at some point and he and Elijah and a fight. The next thing he remembered, he was chasing Elijah to his room and then he was bleeding on the floor.

>>> _Eli: I think I saw some movement near the camera to your left. Check it out?_

Eugene pulled his goggles down over his eyes and clicked on the night-vision. It didn't take him long to see the figure in question. He pulled the goggles back off and saw the unmistakable flash of green getting into an elevator at a nearby construction site.

>>> _Genie: found him_

>>> _Eli: Positive?_

He darted across the rooftop to get a closer look. There, near one of the support columns, was the Riddler. He resisted the urge to call out to him.

>>> _Genie: it's him. wayne health site. send help._

>>> _Eli: DON'T APPROACH HIM ALONE STUPID_

Elijah stared at his screen. He could feel his heart thrumming loudly in his ears.

✓ _seen 05:43 AM_

“Dammit!” Eli banged on his keyboard, “Why do you always have to be such a pain in the ass, Genie?”

“Brothers,” a voice crooned from behind him.

Elijah bolted out of his chair. His heart crept up his throat the moment he saw the Joker-- pale-faced with a cruel, crimson smile-- step into the flickering light of the computer monitor.

“They can be so tiresome, can't they?”

Elijah pulled out the gun Uncle Zsasz had given him just in case, but the Joker clicked his tongue in admonishment.

“Ah ah...” he held up the remote, “We wouldn't want to alert the Professor's puppet now, would we?”

“Are you going to kill me?” Elijah set the gun down on the ground and held up his hands.

“No. Not yet, anyway,” the Joker looked at the screen and noted which of the cameras had been enabled. He pressed a button on the keyboard, tossed a pair of handcuff to the teen, and nodded towards the chair. The words '_Bird's Nest: DISABLED' _flashed on the screen.

Elijah did as he was told and cuffed his hands behind him. He just hoped that Zsasz would be there soon enough or he could dig the pin out of the hem of his sleeve and pick the lock before Jeremiah decided he was done toying with him.

“What's your plan?” he asked, attempting to buy himself time.

“Hm? Plan?” he turned to face the teen, “You mean besides carving you open and delivering your corpse to your family?”

“You and I both know that you're only using Strange to further your own ends. So why travel into the future? What grand purpose does it serve?” he asked, “If Chaos was all you wanted, why not travel into the past and mess things up _that_ way?”

“I wouldn't expect you to understand,” Jeremiah responded honestly, “Or... perhaps _you do.”_

Jeremiah dragged the chair across the tiled floor of the bunker. The scraping sound echoed off of the walls and made Elijah's teeth rattle. The Joker swung open his coat dramatically before sitting down.

“Do you remember how it felt when I ran my blade across your brother's throat? Both times, of course,” he chuckled, amused, “Perhaps you even recall the precise moment your heart broke when something that you loved was so easily torn from your grasp.”

Elijah bit down on the inside of his cheek as he blinked back tears. He refused to cry in front of the Joker but, each time he blinked, he saw flashes of Martin's lifeless body thrown at his father's feet and Eugene reaching out for him in what could have been his last moments.

“Yes. _There,”_ he jammed a finger at the teenager's forehead, “You are I are not that different.”

“We're _nothing_ alike.”

“Not entirely, no. You had loving parents,” Jeremiah said coldly.

“You still haven't answered me,” Elijah spat, “What's your end goal?”

“Why should I tell you?” he sneered.

“If you're already planning on carving me up, as you said, what have you got to lose revealing it to me?”

“Fair point,” the Joker grinned, “Perhaps I could tell you in a language you might understand.”

“Alright, shoot.”

“I wear the same face but we are of two minds. Souls intertwined and, at our own pace, our destruction resigned. Who am I?” Jeremiah picked up the handgun from the floor, “Also,_ poor_ choice of words on your part.”

* * *

Eugene didn't have time to check his phone or even call for backup. He didn't want to risk losing sight of the Riddler. Not when he was so close.

He jumped across the rooftop towards one of the steel beams and nearly lost his footing. He leaned against some of the construction equipment and waited for any sign of movement. When he heard nothing, he stepped out into the light in order to continue following his father's trail.

Unfortunately, he was met with a swift punch to his gut.

“Ow,” Eugene grumbled through the resulting nausea.

He tried to pick himself up off of the ground but was instead hoisted to his feet before he could catch his breath. The Riddler had him by the collar as he dragged him towards the ledge. The wooden scaffolding groaned underfoot.

“D-Dad! Wait!” he flailed as he attempted to secure a quick-draw line to the nearest solid object.

Edward held the teen by the collar of his shirt. Internally, he was screaming-- both from fear and relief. Eugene was _alive_ but Edward couldn't control his own advance. He struggled to keep his hands from squeezing tighter around his son's throat.

“Dad, it's me! It's Eugene!” he pulled and scratched at his father's arms as his hands coiled tighter.

Tears streamed down Edward's face, but his body continued to move on its own. He felt like his teeth were going to crack.

“Sorry... 'bout... this,” Eugene struggled with each word.

Ed had no time to react before the taser was placed to his temple. His vision turned white. When he finally came to, he was nauseated and numb. His mouth was dry and his head throbbed. He rubbed at the burns on his skin from the prongs of the taser and gasped the moment he realized he'd lifted his hand on his own. Frantically, he looked around. The taser was on the ground but he couldn't find Eugene. Ed bolted for the ledge and looked down.

“I took your advice,” Eugene called up at him. He was wearing a harness that secured him to the side of the building, “Little help?”

Edward reached out and pulled his son to safety. Eugene barely had time to remove the carabiner before his dad scooped him into a tight hug.

“I'm so, _so_ sorry,” Edward cried.

“I'm okay, Dad,” he croaked, “You're crushing me.”

“How long have I been gone?” Edward finally pulled away from the hug but continued to pat him down and check him for further injuries-- mentally berating himself for every bruise he found.

“Long enough,” Eugene sighed, “Apa and the rest of the Rogues are going to be crossing the bridge--”

“--No!” Ed exclaimed, “Nonono, they can't be _anywhere _near that bridge!”

“What? Why--”

“It's a trap! That whole area is rigged with explosives.”

“Shit,” Eugene pulled out his phone, “Disabled?! Why is the Bird's Nest disabled?”

“What?” Edward gasped.

“Something's wrong,” his eyes widened, “I can't contact anyone!”

“When are they supposed to cross it?”

Eugene looked out towards the orange light on the horizon, “Soon.”

“Can you not re-enable the server remotely?”

“I can but there's not enough time,” he took out a spare communicator, “Time for Plan B.”

* * *

Oswald stared down at the phone he was given. It worked just fine up until that point, but now all he saw was a black screen. He never was one to understand technology so he just assumed he'd broken it somehow. Not like it mattered. If everything went according to plan, he and Ed would be reunited soon and they could return to their own time to resume their lives.

He stepped out of the limo but made sure to stand close to the armored vehicle. He may have had the recent revelation that he had a healing factor, but that was no reason to take unnecessary risks. Especially when it wasn't just his own life on the line.

The Rogue's Gallery moved with purpose through the streets towards the Narrows-- ascending from Gotham's inky shadows like ghouls or monsters. In some cases, quite literally.

“We're ready to go when you are, Boss,” a nameless henchman told him. He recognized him from the Iceberg Lounge. It seemed that most of his employees weren't just hired for their expertise in customer service or their bartending skills.

Oswald looked down at the black screen on his phone and sighed, “We're crossing now. I won't wait any longer.”

“I'll let them know,” the man nodded his head before darting off passed the cars and towards the group of Rogues further up on the bridge.

Two-Face nodded towards him before giving the signal to continue their march into the Narrows. Oswald was about to climb back into the safety of the limo when a noise caught his attention. He jumped when he felt a sharp gust of air rush passed him. His heart traveled up his throat when the passenger-side tire popped.

The Rogues drew their guns and looked towards him, concerned and assuming the worst had occurred. Oswald looked down at his feet and saw what looked to be a bat-shaped knife of some kind. He rolled his eyes.

“I told you to let us handle it, Penguin,” Batman growled as he descended onto the scene.

“You honestly expected me to just sit around and wait for you to bring Eddie home to me?” he laughed, “You're insane. The longer we wait, the larger their army becomes, and the higher the odds of me finding him dead in a ditch somewhere in the Narrows!”

“The bridges are rigged with explosives. Nightwing and the others are disengaging them now,” the caped crusader explained, “If Eugene hadn't of called us, you and the rest of the Rogues would be dead.”

“B-But... why didn't he just--”

“The Bird's Nest has been compromised.”

“Compromised?” Oswald's eyes widened, “Elijah's there!”

“We know. Commissioner Gordon is on his way there now.”

“You're putting the life of my son in the hands of _Jim Gordon?!” _ he screamed, “If _anything_ happens to him, his blood is on _your _hands!” he pounded his fists into the larger man's armor, not caring how much it hurt his hands.

“I understand. The best hope for us right now is to put our trust in the Commissioner.”

“You better know what you're doing,” he glared.

“I do.”

“Oswald!” a voice called out from nearby. The Penguin's heart nearly stopped at the sound of it.

“Eddie!” He called back to the green figure dashing towards him.

They collided and held one another tightly. Regret and guilt coiled in Oswald's gut at the sight of his beloved. The man looked like he hadn't eaten or rested in days. His suit was torn and muddy and his extremities were trembling. Oswald's wasn't certain if that was from fatigue, anxiety, or an understandable combination of the two.

“I'm sorry, Ozzie,” Edward held his bird close, “I tried to fight it.”

“I know,” Oswald looked him in the eye, “None of this was your fault. Not a damn bit.”

“I've overridden the locks on the Bird's Next,” Eugene ran up to them, “It was disabled manually... none of this makes sense and Eli isn't answering any of my messages.”

“What about Victor?” the Penguin asked.

“I can't get through to him either,” Eugene frowned and then suddenly burst into tears, “What if they're...”

“Shh... hush now,” the Penguin pulled his son to his chest, “I'm sure they're safe.”

He looked up toward Edward who looked just as lost and despondent. The taller man wrapped his arms around Oswald and his son and joined them in their silent prayer that everything would turn out alright.

* * *

Jim wasn't entirely certain what he was searching for. He knew that the Riddler had built a bunker underneath the Van Dahl mansion at the request of his husband, but Jim had never been a guest there-- for obvious reasons. He assumed the Bird's Nest wasn't that dissimilar to the Batcave given that they served similar purposes.

He rounded the corner and was met with the barrel of a silver SIG-Sauer. Victor Zsasz held his finger up to his lips before nodding his head towards the back entrance of the greenhouse.

_Kid's still inside, _Victor signed.

_And Joker?_

Victor made a face in response. He'd been out of patrol and when he found the bodies of the security team. The Joker must have slipped right passed him on his way towards the courtyard. His only hope was that the Joker had somehow managed to get himself trapped in the maze of puzzles meant to keep unwanted guests from reaching the bunker... but that seemed unlikely. Even the Joker of their time had managed to sneak into the Bird's Nest a few times before his untimely demise.

The two men entered the mansion and listened for any signs of commotion.

“Shit,” Victor whispered through clenched teeth when he saw that the hatch leading toward the bunker was wide open. He motioned for Jim to follow and didn't bother slowing down as he followed the familiar path through the maze.

The traps had all been cleverly outmaneuvered or expertly dealt with in a way that only the Joker could have accomplished. The closer they got to the central bunker, the louder Victor's heart drummed in his ears. He'd already failed this family too many times... he wasn't certain he could handle another one.

He smelled blood the moment they reached the bunker. Both men entered the room with their guns drawn. Victor made a beeline for the body slumped over on the floor.

“Hey, bud,” Victor saw the boy's eyes flutter open but checked for a pulse on instinct.

“Ow,” he groaned, clutching his stomach.

When there was no sign of the Joker, Jim rushed to the teenager's side, “Can you tell us what happened?” he checked his wound. Luckily, it was only a graze. The bruise on the side of his head was far more concerning.

“The Joker was here... he disabled the computer,” he struggled to stay awake, “He was going to kill me but I picked the lock on the handcuffs. I fought him off best I could but he hit me and... I don't remember...”

“You probably have a concussion. We'll get you to a hospital, okay? Everything's gonna be alright.”

“What about the others?” he grabbed at Jim's arm, “Genie said he found dad! Is he alright?”

“Let's focus on one thing at a time,” Jim took off his jacket and used it to apply pressure to the wound on the boy's stomach, “Let's get you to a doctor first.”

“Wait... He did say something though... about his plan,” he groaned as Victor scooped him up off of the floor.

“What did he tell you?” Jim asked.

“He was really cryptic about the whole thing, but he said that his motivations for doing all of this had to do with his brother.”

“Jerome?” Jim furrowed his brow, still unsure about their entire situation, “Alright. Thank you, Eli.”

Jim took a moment to take in the bunker. It was definitely built for functionality as opposed to style, so Ed had clearly been at the helm-- mostly steel surfaces, cinder blocks, concrete, and an array of electronics.

“_Remote Override,”_ an electronic voice startled him over the automated intercom.

He looked around as the computer monitors sprang came back to life. His eyes danced around as he tried to process the information being hurled in his direction. Most of it was jumbled code that he didn't understand. One monitor, however, was a live feed of the repaired cameras in the Narrows.

He let out a sigh of relief when he saw that the Riddler was safe beside the Penguin and their son. Though, the fact that the entire Rogue's Gallery was also present was more than a bit worrisome. Batman had called him an urgent plea to come to the Van Dahl mansion, but he hadn't given any details beyond the fact that the Penguin's base of operations was compromised and Elijah Cobblepot was likely in danger. Luckily, everything seemed to be working out in their favor.

Movement near one of the cameras caught his eye.

“Dammit...” he hissed.

His phone rang. He didn't have to look at the caller ID to know it was Harvey.

“Jim! Jerome Valeska escaped.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed, “And I think we have a war between him and his brother on our hands.”

* * *

“We're back online,” Huntress announced.

“Did they say what was wrong?” Gertrude asked, continuing to lead their small group from the front.

>>> _Genie: bn is compromised. no word from eli or uncle z._

>>> _Huntress: Penguin want us to retreat?_

>>> _Genie: no. keep going._

“They didn't say,” she lied. It wouldn't do anyone any good if Gertrude panicked. She could deal with her friend's wrath once they were safely back home.

Gertrude and Martin had mapped out the tunnels beneath Gotham when they were kids. Gertrude felt her heart clench whenever she came across one of their old drawings on the antique brick. They'd faded with time, but they still marked certain corridors and helped guide everyone through the old maze.

She'd never been down there without her brother. They seemed hollow now.

She stopped for a moment and listened down one of the dark tunnels that led toward the river. Her eyes widened when she heard footsteps. They seemed like they were in a hurry.

Gertrude and her entourage flattened themselves against the brick and waited. It wasn't long before a man in a stained lab coat and fuchsia-colored glasses barreled into their trap.

“Oh my...” he groaned.

“Good morning, Professor,” Gertrude pressed the barrel of her gun between the wrinkles on his forehead.

“Now, Gertrude,” he tutted, “Let's not be so eager to dispose of me.”

“Give me one good reason why I should hesitate at all.”

“If there is one thing I have learned from Gotham it is that the most powerful of its children are molded by their enemies,” he explained, “I had to bring you an enemy worthy of you in order for you to reach your potential.”

“And you thought that enemy was the Joker?” she scoffed.

“Am I wrong?” his voice lilted, “Look at how far you've come--”

She grabbed at his face and squeezed. She could feel his jaw buckling under her grasp and smiled at his pathetic whimpering.

“I am who I am not because of your meddling, Professor,” she smiled, “I'm the fucking Queen of Gotham. _I _made me.”

“But I gave you life--”

“No, my parents gave me a life. You kept me in a cage and left me to die.”

“I admit I was not the most _benevolent_ creator,” his tone was overly sweet, “I see my error now. You're my Leviathan. You only need to embrace your calling--”

“You think you're a God?” she scoffed.

“In a lot of ways, I suppose you could call me that. I created you, after all. I brought you to life with my own two hands. I am the reason your parents finally found one another.”

“You're wrong,” she spat, “My parents made a promise to one another _long_ before I was even a thought. They promised to take what they wanted, from who they wanted, and they would suffer no fools. My parents loved each other before you _ever_ came into the picture.”

She slammed him against the wall, gun still firmly pressed against his skull and her fist balled tightly around his throat.

“It's true that having me in their lives brought them together sooner, but they would have found one another regardless. Maybe they would be old men or maybe they would have never confessed their feelings for one another, but they would have remained each other's rock.”

She watched as his eyes darted around and his hands fumbled for purchase as she strangled him. She slammed his head against the brick a second time and smiled at the loud cracking sound. Blood trickled down his nose as he howled in pain.

“I always thought you were the boogeyman when I was a kid. But you've just reminded me of something very important.”

“What's that?” he trembled.

She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “God's don't bleed.”

She let go of him and let him crumple to the floor. He stared up at her wide-eyed. Like some sort of cornered animal. Pathetically, he clamored to his feet and ran.

“My love,” she cooed to the man beside her.

“Yes?” Junior growled. His eyes grew red and the veins in his face and neck rose to the surface of his skin like angry snakes.

“Be a dear,” she smiled, “Tear him limb from limb for me?”

* * *

“Come out, come out, wherever you aaaare,” Jerome sing-songed.

He had his own army of freaks on standby. Droves of them were lined up in the nearby alleyways with painted faces and masks-- all of them with itchy trigger fingers and nothing left to lose.

“You know... I was pretty suspicious when you and the dear old Professor brought me back,” Jerome waved his gun, “But I thought, _Oh, what the hell. I'll have some fun.”_

He jumped into the next alley and fired a few warning shots-- just for kicks-- and frowned when he found it empty.

“Then you had to go and abandon me with the police,” he sneered, “It's enough to really piss a guy off.”

A bullet ricocheted off the dumpster nearby. He ducked behind it and listened for the sound of his brother's footsteps.

“If you wanted to go back to the good-ole-days, ya coulda just asked.”

“Yes, but this was more our style,” Jeremiah's voice finally called out.

“Is this the reason you made the old mad scientist dig up my corpse?”

“Would you judge me if I said yes?”

“Eh, maybe a little,” Jerome jumped out from behind the safety of his makeshift cover and fired in the direction of his brother. Before Jeremiah could get a clean shot, Jerome ran out of the alley and toward where some of the unsavory clowns were lying in wait.

The chaos that ensued between the two armies of carnivalesque freaks ripped through the Narrows. The two sides clashed until no one even knew who exactly they were fighting against and it was just a large brawl spanning most of the Narrows.

Batman and his flock descended from the nearby buildings and attempted to break up the fight. Unfortunately, all that did was antagonize the gangs further and encourage the Valeska's unhinged brutality with one another. After several failed attempts to disperse them and isolate them into smaller groups, they were able to set off smoke bombs and incapacitate them.

Jeremiah got a lucky shot and shattered Jerome's clavicle. Before he could recover, Batman had hoisted the clown upward and secured him to a lamp post.

“No fair!” Jerome flailed.

Jeremiah growled. He briefly considered just putting his brother out of his misery, but there would be no fun in that. It wouldn't make for a satisfying punchline.

No one noticed the limo through the carnage of bullets and the crackling of electricity in the air. With all of the grace of royalty, Gertrude stepped out of the vehicle and walked through the square. Several guns and knives swiveled in her direction but no one dared fire as she deposited the head of Hugo Strange onto the ground in front of her.

The screaming and gunfire dissipated as she stood-- unfazed-- and lit a cigarette. Once she knew she had everyone's attention, she blew out a plume of smoke and smiled.

“WHERE IS HE?” she screamed, absolutely feral.

All sides of the battle took a step back before pointing towards where Jeremiah was standing.

“Ah, the Queen of Gotham has finally arrived,” he smiled and gestured to the bodies strewn about on Gotham's streets, “I hope you approve of the decorations.”

“I've seen better,” she aimed her gun and fired.

The gunshot echoed off the bloodied pavement and crumbling concrete. Everyone sucked in a breath at the suddenness of it all and then felt their blood run cold when the Joker snapped back with unhinged laugher.

“Rude,” he glared before removing the bullet from the wound in his skull. The skin sizzled as the flesh mended. He nodded and then looked down at the head at his feet, “Seems your experiment was a success, Professor--”

Another gunshot ripped through his throat. His head lilted to one side, but he remained standing. Albeit much angrier than he was previously.

Gertrude emptied her clip into his face and torso. When pulling the trigger was no longer satisfying and there were no more bullets, she threw the pistol to the ground and yanked a shotgun from the nearest henchman. She aimed the double-barrel directly at his heart and smiled when _that_ finally blew him off his feet.

“GCPD!” Commissioner Gordon called out as he approached, “Gertrude, stand down.”

“NO!” she howled. She glared at Batman and the Commissioner before turning back towards one of her henchmen, “Throw him in a box and bury it in concrete.”

“You can't kill him,” Batman positioned himself between Gotham's Queen and the man writhing in pain on the ground.

“You forget yourself,” she spat, “You and my fathers may have had an agreement to keep the cogs of this city well-oiled, but I am under _no_ obligation to honor it now that they're gone.”

“You know I can't let you do this,” he straightened to his full height.

“Bruce, listen to yourself!” she laughed in his face, “He shot Barbara. He killed Martin, broke my father's heart, and almost succeeded in taking the twins away from me too. I _need_ his blood soaking the street.”

“There's been plenty of bloodshed,” he looked down at the severed head of Hugo Strange, “Jeremiah is my responsibility. Let me take him in.”

“You're making a mistake,” she shook her head, “He needs to be sealed a box and thrown into the ocean. _My_ methods will ensure that he can't escape.”

“Let me handle this my way, Gertrude,” he kept his tone even, “Then we can discuss renewing the agreement I had with your family.”

She looked down at the Joker. His wounds had healed, but the Batman held him in place with a firm boot to his chest.

“_Fine,”_ she spat, “But if he returns and _anyone _that I love is hurt because of it, no one will be safe from my wrath. I promise you that.”

Bruce didn't bother responding to her with words. She held her tongue as he yanked the Joker to his feet and dragged the clowns towards an armored transport vehicle. She just hoped it was enough to keep those two locked away for good. Worst came to worse, she'd just reach out to her contacts in Arkham.

There would be plenty of time for those considerations later. What they _didn't_ have time for was to delay the Penguin and Riddler's departure.

“Don't forget your promise,” Gertrude squeezed tighter.

“I won't,” Ed held her just as tightly. He wasn't looking forward to facing the future in regards to his health, but he'd stared death in the face before and laughed. Keeping his promise to his children and the future they represented would be much the same.

“Here,” she handed him a notebook, “To be forewarned is to be forearmed, but to be foretold is to be misled... but, I hope you'll find these dates useful for when you get back home.”

“Thank you,” Ed placed a hand on her shoulder, “We're probably still going to be terrible parents most of the time, but we'll do our best.”

“I know,” she hastily wiped her tears away. She turned to the Penguin who was just as misty-eyed.

“I look forward to meeting you,” Oswald kissed her cheek. He held her there for a moment before continuing, “Don't throw your happiness away just so you can fulfill a dead legacy.”

She tried to keep her expression neutral, but her sideways glance towards Junior gave her away, “I'll do my best.”

“That's all I ask of you,” he smiled, “Well, that and keeping your brothers out of trouble.”

She chuckled, “Lehetetlen feladat.”

Oswald looked over at Edward who was being hugged on either side by the twins.

“Alright. Get out of here, you two,” Gertrude smiled, “You can't fix our future if you're stuck here.”

“Are you two ready?” Jim asked.

Oswald took one last glance at his children before turning and looking up at Edward. They laced their fingers together and smiled, “Yes.”

Before they even had time to think or process the sudden shift in heir surroundings, there was a loud crack and a blinding light.

Oswald managed to right himself before stumbling backwards-- nauseated and leg aching from the intense wave of heat and light. He blinked away the dizziness and, once the ringing in his ears stopped, he opened his eyes to see Edward doing much the same.

Oswald's back was against the brick wall outside Gotham Central Bank. Ed stumbled towards him-- his hands braced on either side of Oswald's head-- and struggled to catch his breath. He looked like he was trying to keep from falling over.

“Ed?” Oswald placed his hands on Edward's waist to ground him. Edward shivered under the touch and then chuckled. He leaned forward and pressed their lips together.

“GCPD!” a familiar voice called out.

The two criminals didn't bother breaking away from their kiss and instead tilted their heads slightly so that they could see the intruder from their peripheral. They smiled against one another's mouths as they witnessed Jim Gordon's expression slide around between angry, shocked... and amused.

“Uh... Have you seen.... you know what, nevermind,” Jim shook his head, “Have fun, you two.”

“Have a nice evening, Jimbo!” Ed called out.

Jim shook his head as he made his way back to the patrol car and sped away. Oswald could barely contain his belly laugh. He turned back towards his beloved.

“Marry me?” Ed blurted out.

“I... what? But, we've only just--”

“--There's no telling how much time our future counterparts _wasted_. We've been playing this game for an embarrassing amount of time... I want to fix that.”

“There are a lot of things to fix about our future,” his hand once again found Edward's cheek. His thumbs grazed over his sharp cheekbone.

“There is,” Ed mirrored his lover's movement, “And_ this_ is the first thing I want to work on.”

* * *

Edward adjusted his tie. He took in a few calming breaths before looking out the window that overlooked the lawn. All of the wedding guests were already gathered outside. Oswald had personally taken care of each detail-- from the flowers to the color scheme to the fabric choices. Every detail had to be perfect and, if Edward was honest, that fussing had paid off. He smiled and took one last look at himself in the mirror.

“You can do this,” he told himself, straightening his shoulders and making sure that his boutonniere was secured to his lapel.

He walked down the hallway toward the bedroom he and Oswald shared. His hands trembled as he knocked on the door.

“Come in,” a voice called.

He opened the door and tried not to cry at what he saw.

“Hi, daddy!” Gertrude beamed, “How does it look?”

Edward's smile widened. Oswald looked up at him as he arranged the flowers in their daughter's hair. Her dress was an antique they'd found in the attic years ago and had kept it for this specific occasion-- knowing that they would have need of it. Oswald thought that maybe it would have been the one his mother might have worn had she married his father.

“You look beautiful,” he told her.

“Knock knock!” Barbara Lee called out from the entryway, “Special delivery for the wife-to-be.”

She handed Gertrude the bouquet of flowers-- a shower of fresh eucalyptus, calla lilies, and Singapore orchids. She looked up at both of her fathers and smiled.

“Thank you. Both of you.”

Oswald kissed her forehead. Another knock came at the door as Martin entered. Shyly, he tapped at his watch.

“Is it time already?” Oswald wiped a tear away.

“It is. We should--”

“--Mommy!” a young boy with blonde hair ran into the room. Gertrude barely had time to toss the bouquet to her Maid of Honor before her son hopped into her lap.

“Ozzie, sweetie, you're supposed to be downstairs,” she chided.

“I wanted to see you!” he told her, “You look so pretty.”

“Thank you,” she tapped his nose, “Come on, go with Uncle Martin back downstairs. We'll be starting soon.”

“And then I can have cake?” he bounced in her lap.

“Yes, _then_ you can have cake,” she rolled her eyes, “But, if you nag Granny Olga, she's likely not to give you any. So, _behave.”_

“Okay!” he smiled and his bright eyes sparkled. Martin took him by the hand as they left the room to go back towards the wedding party.

“That child, I swear,” she laughed, “Are you two ready?”

“Could you wait outside for just a moment?” Edward asked.

“Of course,” she kissed her father on the cheek before leaving the room and waiting in the hall.

Edward's hands were still shaking. He reached out towards his husband and found him caught in a similar vibration. They both chuckled at their mutual nervousness.

“I'm more anxious today than I was at our own wedding,” Edward admitted.

“I feel much the same,” Oswald nodded, “I'm just glad we were able to finally give this to her.”

“Me too,” Edward's hand glided across Oswald's cheek, moving an errant grey hair from his face.

They were both showing their age nowadays. Oswald didn't walk as much-- even with his knee-brace. Edward's laugh lines had deepened considerably over the last thirty years. They were still in their prime, as far as they were concerned. Edward's cancer had been in remission for years and Oswald had been keeping track of his health well enough that he could still keep up with the best of the rogues in the Gallery.

They both leaned in for a kiss and tried to hold one another together as they were overcome with emotion at how their lives had finally clicked together. Today would have been the day that the two of them had fallen forward into time and seen the remnants of their broken family and the chaos left in the wake of Hugo Strange.

Gotham wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination. They still made mistakes, but they were better for it. They had a family. They had each other. They finally had the one thing the two of them craved so desperately.

A home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO! I haven't posted this in a lot of places, but I have created a [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/MissVileWrites) specifically for my writing and podfics! I'll be posting some sneak peeks about the Project Leviathan sequels over there soon :D

**Author's Note:**

> What even is happening right now? What is this stooooorry~


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